The Last Enemy
by Belfast Docks
Summary: A tragedy destroyed their family and clouded their perception, and when their Founders gave them a challenge, they were determined to destroy the one entity they loathed above all else. But they never dreamed Death could be so dangerous an opponent. A story about the Peverell brothers and the Founders. Originally posted on the HP fanfiction archive "Checkmated". Rated M.
1. Chapter 1 - Returns

**Author's Note:** I originally posted this story on a Harry Potter fanfiction archive called Checkmated, starting about three years ago. This is currently a Work In Progress and it takes me quite a while to write just one chapter (it's a pretty dark story, much more so than my usual fluff and romance). Most unfortunately, Checkmated is pretty dead these days (quite sad, as it was an awesome HP fanfic archive) and several of my Checkmated reviewers had asked me if I had this piece archived elsewhere so they could continue reading it. As a result, I decided to transfer this story to ffnet in effort to maintain it and continue writing it, in case Checkmated disappears entirely. I should note that I've never read HP fanfiction on ffnet or any other HP fanfiction site outside of Checkmated, and I relied on the betas and readers of Checkmated for advice and approval of originality. The first nine chapters of this fic were also beta'd, in accordance with Checkmated's regulations. Starting with the tenth chapter, the story is un-beta'd. Flames are ignored and reported to ffnet for deletion. Reviews naturally make any writer happy, however.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Harry Potter_. This story, however, is my twisted creation, and can also be found on Checkmated . com under my user name on that site, which is different from my user name on ffnet.

**Warnings:** This story is rated M for mature content, including sexual implications as well as violence. Chapter one involves a brief mature sexual scene that is crucial to the story as Cadmus, per JK Rowling's works, had a child. And I figure if _Breaking Dawn Part 1_ can show what it did and get away with calling it PG13, then this is probably tame. I'm not one for pages of graphic description, either. Also, overall, this is quite a dark story; if you're looking for a happy HP fic, you've most definitely picked the wrong one.

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_"...I think it more likely that the Peverell brothers were simply gifted, dangerous wizards who succeeded in creating those powerful objects."_

_Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows, Ch. 35_

{ A tragedy destroyed their family and clouded their perception, and when their Founders gave them a challenge, they were determined to conquer the one entity they loathed more above all else. But though they sought to defeat Death, they never dreamed that Death would be so dangerous an opponent. A story about the Peverell brothers; a story about the Founders; a story about the creation of the Deathly Hallows. }

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**The Last Enemy**

**Chapter One - Returns**

It had rained recently. The narrow, slippery track that wound from the village was muddy, rutted, and full of dirty, stagnant puddles. If the sky were any indication, it was sure to rain again before nightfall. Slate gray clouds hung so close to the earth that it seemed as though one could reach up with splayed fingers and touch them – to feel the cold drizzle swirling within, ready to freeze the earth. The entire surrounding landscape echoed the dismal atmosphere; trees looked gray instead of green, the hedgerows were muted and dark, and the dome of the sky stretched forever into a vast, monochrome forlornness.

Along this track walked two men: one slightly in front of the other, with the taller in the rear. Both ignored the splashing of mud on their knee-high leather boots, or the way the cold, iron-gray water in pools on the ground had already seeped into their long, trailing cloaks, which were fastened above their left shoulders with a dull silver clasp fashioned after a simple coat of arms. The taller wore a thick, heavy broadsword strapped to his back, while his companion clung to a shorter, more slender sword, keeping it well above the ground. They did not slip or stumble, but moved onward without complaint at the less-than-ideal weather conditions. They seemed more intent on reaching their destination than being delayed by rain, and they were neither perturbed nor disgruntled by the wind and damp.

Even so, the trek was long and tiring. The younger man looked exhausted as he mounted another small hillock with effort. The taller, the elder, showed no sign of fatigue, however. His broad, strong build indicated the walk was nothing out of the ordinary for him and he was the least surprised when a few moments later, a castle loomed out of the gray fog surrounding the mountains.

When the huge structure came into view, both men paused in the path at the crest of the hill they had just climbed, the younger catching his breath. The wind was bitingly cold here, and even the thick woolen cloaks seemed to quail before it. But the taller man stood completely still, as though carved from stone, as he gazed with a closed expression on the tall ramparts and towers that spiraled into the dull, low-lying clouds.

Then they were in motion once more, bent against the sudden, rushing gale as they followed the path. This time, the elder moved in front to lead the way. The path turned steeply upwards for several yards before the slope became gentle once more, and the second man was breathing hard once again as they gained the even ground.

The castle seemed to grow taller as they approached it, and the indifferent look of the taller changed slowly to a look of longing. Behind him, the shorter finally succumbed to shivering as the wind blew his cloak back from his right shoulder; he stumbled and quickly gained his balance, holding to his sword as though it were dear and precious. He glanced up at the castle, but his expression was not greedy as the elder's was – it was only too clear that he simply wanted out of the intense wind and cold.

And to his relief, the heavy, oak front doors opened as they came within hailing distance, and a man unexpectedly stepped out to greet them.

He was incredibly different from the two men who had made the long hike to the castle. The bitter wind did not seem to force him to bend; rather, he remained erect and tall, defying it to make him lean against the rush. It tousled his rugged mane of auburn brown hair, and the deep, wine-red cloak whipped around him as he strode boldly forward, his hands outstretched.

"And so Merlin returns two of our pure blood brothers to the halls of scholarly endeavors!" he called cheerfully. "We were beginning to wonder if the two of you had survived the Clan Wars. The term began over a month ago, and we have all been concerned for your safety." He grasped hands with the taller first, smiling genially at him. The two were almost the same height, but while the one had hair of auburn, the other had hair as black as ebony, and his eyes were the color of the gray sky around them.

However, this taller man smiled wanly, his face ashen from cold and exertion. "Master Godric," he said, bowing over the outstretched hands. "As you see, we have survived, and apologize for our tardiness. War unfortunately does not stop to allow students to return to their studies, or we would have returned at the start of harvest, quite eagerly. Even as it was, we were afraid the doors would be charmed against outsiders as we approached so late…" His gaze flickered to the towering spires.

"Against outsiders, yes, but not comrades. I saw you approaching from the battlements, and came to welcome you home." Godric Gryffindor smiled, and then turned to the other man, who also bowed to him in nervous submission. But the Founder seemed unconcerned with formalities – indeed, he ignored the gesture and said, "Come inside and warm yourselves. 'Tis deathly cold, and I'll warrant a Warming Charm will be useless against this wind!" He chuckled at the idea as he nodded for the two men to follow him, turning for the heavy doors again.

"Your brother will be happy to see you," he added over his shoulder in a voice loud enough to be heard over the howling. "He has been quite worried for you both. He was afraid to send an owl in case it was intercepted, but he has been extremely restless waiting for news of you!"

With that statement, Godric raise his wand, and a huge silver lion streaked from it soundlessly, flying into the sky, and becoming invisible against the palette of gray except for the way it sparkled slightly, while the clouds remained lifeless and flat. It vanished through the window of one of the tallest towers, and the two travelers knew it carried a message with it. Godric Gryffindor had long ago mastered the art of communicating with Patronuses, though few others had been able to learn his secret. They knew that their brother would be down shortly to greet them.

As the lion vanished through the window, the three men entered the vast front hall of the castle. The door banged shut with a loud echo. Though not warm within the confines of the cold stone walls, it was at least dry and only a little chilly – there was thankfully no wind, and the two men began to realize how deep the cold had ran into the marrow of their bones during their long walk. Shivering and shaking, they followed Godric into the Great Hall, where four long silken banners fluttered from the ceiling representing the coat of arms and colors for each of the Founders. Otherwise, the Hall was void of tables and benches, save for the one long table at the top of the Hall, behind which an older man with a long gray beard was pacing slowly, reading a lengthy scroll of parchment.

The heavy footsteps on the flagstones captured his attention however, and he glanced up with a wary, frowning expression. But when he saw who was approaching, he waved his wand and the parchment Vanished instantly. He stepped from the head table and strode to meet his colleague and pupils.

"Antioch," he said peremptorily. He steepled his fingers and gave the merest flickering trace of a smile. "It is good to see you once again. And Cadmus." He inclined his head to the shorter brother, who was professing his thanks even as Antioch made a low bow to his Founder.

"Master Salazar. We apologize for our late arrival. The Clan Wars were more involving than we expected. They have temporarily abated however, allowing us to return."

"We are thankful that you have survived to return to us," Salazar said coolly.

Godric chuckled. "They are brave men I warrant, despite the qualities which brought them under the tutelage of Founders aside from myself."

"Be that as it may," Salazar frowned, "their safety is extremely important. The Peverell family is an essential bloodline in the Wizarding community. If we continue to be persecuted, Godric, even you can not deny that Magical blood will die out."

The shadow that passed in Godric's eyes disappeared so quickly one may have wondered if they had seen it at all. And his voice was certainly light as he said, "The Clan Wars were Wizarding Wars, as you yourself know, Salazar. They had nothing to do with blood purity – only the MacBain Clan fighting for land rights against the Findlay Clan. And the Peverell house has friendly ties with those of Findlay, which was why Antioch and Cadmus were called to fight. I hardly think the matter was an attempt to eradicate wizarding blood."

Salazar pursed his thin, bloodless lips together tightly, but before he could retort, the sound of soft footsteps alerted the men to another presence. As they turned to the doors leading to the Entrance Hall, a tall, graceful woman came towards them, her midnight blue cloak fluttering around her and her long, wavy black hair rippling down her back. She smiled benignly at them all before she greeted the second brother.

"Cadmus, it is good to see you again. We were beginning to worry that you and Antioch would not be returning to Hogwarts this year."

The second brother's eyes widened to see his tutor approaching him, and he bowed low. "Mistress Rowena," he said quickly. "I am eager to continue my studies. We are thankful to return to the castle for the remainder of the winter and spring."

"And your studies are eager to embrace you once more as well," Rowena answered placidly. "The Art of War does not compare with the Art of Knowledge, or the ability to immerse yourself in expanding your Knowledge to new horizons."

"No, Mistress," Cadmus agreed, still bent at the waist. Only when she touched his shoulder with her slim fingertips did he straighten.

Rowena Ravenclaw turned to Antioch. "And you have returned despite being of age," she mused, her eyes flickering over his tall frame, pale features, and tousled, long black hair.

"Yes, Mistress," Antioch said quietly. "I have a desire to continue my studies, if Master Salazar will accept me once more under his tutelage."

A ghost of a smile flitted over Salazar Slytherin's face. "You need not ask, Antioch. You are one of my brightest pupils, and I have always been impressed with your talent. But I would suggest this year that you focus on specific courses of study, rather than a broad spectrum. You have missed a good deal of time while fighting in the Clan Wars, and after next year, I will be unable to accept you into the school as a student – due to your age, of course."

"I understand completely, Master Salazar." Antioch bowed low again. "I will make the most use of my short time during my last few months with you."

"Excellent. Most excellent," Salazar murmured.

"_Antioch! Cadmus!_" The excited voice rang through the Great Hall with an echo and broke the placid conversation. It was followed by the hard pounding of footsteps on the stone floor, and the three Founders and the two brothers turned to see a younger man running towards them, his face lit with excitement.

Antioch was tall, broad, and stoic – his demeanor was quiet, yet calm and confident…perhaps arrogant, with a marked dark side that his brothers had often witnessed when he was angry or intently focused on his studies. Cadmus, however, was shorter and stockier. His hair was dark brown, his eyes were dark brown, and his skin more clammy than Antioch's pale, perfect features, and his general personality not nearly as intimidating.

But Ignotus Peverell was full of the life his brothers seemed to lack. He was taller than Cadmus but shorter than Antioch – his hair was as black as the elder's, and naturally untidy, tousled, and thick. His eyes were hazel, but they contained more color than Antioch's lifeless gray, with specks of green and blue. He was starting to fill out in the shoulders, but still wiry and lanky at only sixteen years of age. And while his brothers wore coarse, dark traveling clothes, he wore brown breaches and knee-high boots, a red tunic with a gold long-sleeved shirt beneath, and a bright red cape for warmth, all indicating he had been Sorted quite differently than his bothers. Clearly, his entire presence seemed almost too brilliant amongst the dark-clad group, minus his instructor, who was smiling at his entrance.

Ignotus had not stopped running as he reached Antioch. He merely kept going, and threw his arms around his brother's neck to hug him tightly. Antioch stumbled at the onslaught, and returned the hug, albeit coldly. It was obvious that he disapproved of his youngest brother's wild shouts and reckless running, but Ignotus apparently did not notice the expression of severity, for he turned to Cadmus and hugged him affectionately as well. He was already talking before he had stepped back, hardly taking a breath between sentences.

"I'm so happy to see you both! I couldn't send an owl in case one of the Clans intercepted it, and I've been worried to death that neither of you would come back! But you're here, and now I can at least write mother and tell her you're both alive; she's been more worried than I have –"

"_Stop_," Antioch said sharply, frowning at Ignotus.

Instantly, Ignotus fell silent, suddenly confused and a little hurt and annoyed that his older brother had cut him off – there was much to tell them of what had been happening at the castle and at home the previous summer while he had stayed alone with their mother. But Antioch's expression was cold and unfeeling, and Ignotus shivered. His elder brother was watching him closely.

"We bring with us grave tidings, which mar your celebration of our safe return," Cadmus said dully.

"You're both alive. What grave tidings could you possibly have?" Ignotus queried worriedly.

"Grave tidings indeed." Antioch paused, his muscles tense and tight. Then he said emotionlessly, "Father was killed in battle."

It was blunt, without warning or sympathy. His face was hard and cold, and there was little feeling in his eyes. The hall fell silent.

For a few seconds, Ignotus merely stared at him, disbelieving. Godric Gryffindor had stiffened, Salazar Slytherin had frowned, and Rowena Ravenclaw's brow had knitted together in thought.

"Killed?" Ignotus said. His voice was slow, confused. It echoed again, but with an entirely different tone than that of his eager excitement only moments before. "Father? Father's dead?"

The words sank in as he said them, and he swayed. Valiantly, he regained his balance to keep his knees from buckling under him. His father – the lifeline of their family, their patriarch, their protector and defender, the man who had raised them and taught them to duel, to fight, to stand strong…he was dead?

Antioch continued tonelessly, as if reciting a lesson Salazar had given him to memorize. His voice did nothing to ease the shock or pain of the news for his youngest brother.

"The battle was going poorly. Father and several leaders agreed that to defeat the MacBain Clan and gain the ground they had strove for several days to win, one single man would have to fight the MacBain leader, Athol, in a duel. Little progress had been made and the Findlay Clan could not maintain their strongholds. Father agreed to challenge Athol MacBain, and Athol accepted."

"But Father was an incredible dueler! He couldn't have lost against another…especially one less worthy!" Ignotus argued angrily. His voice rose in his pain; he did not bother to check himself. But his hurt and pain only made Antioch's expression turn colder.

"It seems he was not as cunning or intelligent as Athol MacBain."

"_No!_" Ignotus yelled. "How _dare_ you claim Father was unintelligent –!"

"He refused, _blatantly_," Antioch emphasized, cutting Ignotus off, "to wear the goblin-made armor Tearlach Findlay offered him before the duel. Had he worn it, he would not have been killed!"

Cadmus quickly broke in to prevent Ignotus from exploding into another outburst. "Father said it was a dishonor to fight in armor. The act of a _coward_. That is why he refused the armor."

Once more, the hall fell into a ringing silence. Ignotus had managed to bite his tongue, and the pain somehow brought him to reality. Cadmus said what he had intentionally; his words had checked the youngest Peverell brother's temper and overwhelming grief, because Godric Gryffindor, who claimed he had seen tremendous bravery in the youngest Peverell brother, as well as courage and daring, had Sorted Ignotus into his fold, and the other Founders had agreed with the decision six years ago. Therefore, Ignotus could not possibly gainsay his Father's actions when he himself would have likely chosen the same path had _he_ accepted the same duel.

"It wasn't just the armor, though," Antioch said darkly after a long, tense pause. His eyes had turned a stormy, furious gray – the first real emotion that had been revealed in them since the discussion had began. "Athol claimed afterwards that he had a better, stronger wand. Father's wand shattered at the very end of the duel. They had been battling fiercely, and we were assured that Father would win…but then Athol cast a spell I was unfamiliar with, and it hit Father's wand on the tip. It killed him instantly and destroyed the wand into splinters. And after that, we were suddenly fighting for our lives and Father's body. The MacBain Clan finally retreated one hundred yards to allow us to gather our dead, but the battle and the strongholds were lost. All we had striven for throughout the summer…it was all gone. We lost all the ground we worked so hard to retrieve, and were forced to retreat to the castles in the west. They took over all the lands that were being fought for as soon as we left."

Another long silence followed. After a few seconds, Godric gently placed a hand on his student's shoulder to keep Ignotus from running out of the Great Hall in anguish, while Rowena bowed her regal head in a solemn remembrance. Only Salazar seemed pensive.

"A stronger wand?" he mused thoughtfully, after a few long moments. "But wands are no stronger or weaker than others. The wizard controls the wand, and it is the wizard who is stronger or weaker than his opponent. The very idea of one wand being more powerful than another has no logic, Antioch."

Antioch bowed to his Founder. "That is what I thought prior to the duel between Father and Athol. But now, my theories have changed. You mentioned a moment ago that you would like me to focus on one area of study. With your permission, Master Salazar, I would like to focus on wandlore. I have thought about it the past two weeks since Father's death and I am interested in learning the mystic secrets of the subject. Is it truly so that the wand itself is just a piece of wood with a Magical core that matches itself with a wizard? Or can one really _create_ a wand stronger than others? I beg you to allow me to work with both yourself and Deogal Ollivander to delve further into this field. I can travel to Hogsmeade on days when his work is light and extend my studies."

Salazar contemplated this for a few moments, his brow furrowed deeply. Finally, he said, "If you so desire, Antioch. But there are many other subjects which you excel at that would be a better use of your time."

But Antioch would not be persuaded. "Wandlore is my current desire, sir. I truly wish to study the subject more closely. It would assist me in understanding the events that led to my father's untimely death."

"As you choose." Salazar's voice was dry. It was obvious the eldest Founder clearly disagreed with the idea, and thought Antioch's endeavors would be worthless. However, at the same time, Antioch was of age, and Salazar had long since learned that there was no use forcing a headstrong student into doing something they had no desire to do. Instead, he shrugged and said, "Perhaps you had best return to the common room, and rest before dinner. You have had a long journey from the north."

Antioch, satisfied that he had achieved his desire to learn Wandlore, inclined his head to the three Founders, gave Cadmus and Ignotus a dark look, and left the Great Hall without further comment.

Once his firm footsteps died away in the Entrance Hall, Rowena commented, "Revenge is a savage beast, which controls the senses and mind, and clouds perception. He would do better to study the Dark Arts and their Defenses, or Potions, instead of Wandlore, Salazar."

"I am obviously inclined to agree." Salazar Conjured the scroll he had been pursuing before Antioch, Cadmus, and Godric entered the hall. "But as you say, his perception is clouded and the beast currently controls Antioch. The claws are deep. He will in time be pacified, however. He will either kill the beast, or allow it to kill _him_. For the moment, I believe it is best to allow him to follow the path he has selected. At some point, it will come to a dead-end and he will be forced to retrace his steps to the crossroads once more."

Rowena did not respond, but continued to gaze thoughtfully at the doors of the Great Hall. After a few long, pregnant seconds, she turned to Cadmus, who looked confused and upset at the Founders' less than flattering discussion of his elder brother.

"Cadmus," she said gently, "you should also return to the tower and rest. Your friends will be eager to see you."

Cadmus bowed. "Thank you, Mistress." He turned to leave the hall, but glanced over his shoulder several times to see if his tutors would start discussing _his_ problems once he left. When Salazar scowled at him, Cadmus hurriedly ducked out of the hall.

The eldest Founder then muttered, "He is as lost as the elder." He returned to the scroll, and began strolling towards the table at the head of the hall.

"Yes, but not bent on revenge at least," Rowena replied, with a light shrug. "Just confused and wandering in a forest, with no trail to guide him. At some point he will discover the trail or else he will be doomed forever to remain lost. But it is of little importance at present. It has been a long day, and if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have several letters to respond to in my chambers before dinner." And in a swirl of midnight blue, she also exited.

Left alone with his student, Godric gently squeezed Ignotus's shoulder. The young boy looked up, his eyes full of unshed tears. He started to speak but thought better of it, and sadly, Godric murmured, "Return to the Tower, Ignotus. I will be up after dinner to see that everyone is safe."

Ignotus nodded numbly, and turned to trudge towards the Entrance Hall. He could feel his Founder's eyes on his back as he walked, but he would not look back as Cadmus had done. He was stronger than Cadmus was, and he refused to give Salazar a reason to speak so indifferently about him.

But as he mounted the marble staircase, the numb feeling gave way to fear and pain, and he succumbed to allowing his bravery to crumble for a few moments.

His father was dead. He had not even seen his father for two years – Corvus Peverell had been assisting the Findlay Clan in the north of Scotland, hoping to regain land that the MacBain family had stolen through bloodshed. Corvus had been one of Findlay's greatest war leaders. He was a fighter and a talented wizard, and now he was gone. Ignotus stumbled on the last marble step, and fell to his hands and knees, swallowing hard to keep the tears from falling down his face.

He had never had to deal with this kind of pain before. In sixteen years, he had not yet experienced death. It was new, fresh, raw, undiluted. He could only imagine how Cadmus or Antioch felt when they actually saw it happen. A horrid image flashed in his head of a raging battlefield, blood-strewn rocks and men dying, spells flying in all directions, and his proud father dueling fiercely with an unknown man, who's face was hidden beneath a goblin-made mask that had hideous etchings. The jets of light were bright and blinding, and then one hit his father in the chest, and the wand burst into thousands of pieces and rained to the bloody ground. Antioch and Cadmus were running forward in panic, while members of the Findlay Clan tried to restrain them…

Ignotus wrenched himself back to reality only to realize he had broken into a cold sweat. He had no way of knowing the circumstances of his father's death except from what Antioch and Cadmus had told him in the Great Hall. Any additional information would be revealed later, should his brothers choose to invite his confidence. Struggling, Ignotus grasped the thick marble balustrade beside him and pulled himself to his feet.

It was late in the day, and the castle was silent but for the pounding of blood in his ears and the sound of his heart throbbing against his chest, threatening to break through his ribs and skin and fall to the flagstones below. His skin was clammy, and he closed his eyes as he willed his breathing to slow.

He could not bring his father back. Ignotus knew that. It was true that he had never experienced death before, but he tried to remind himself that there was no sense crying or panicking over something that was unchangeable. His father had been brave and proud, and would have been upset if he had seen Ignotus collapse on the landing. Feeling sick with both grief and shame, Ignotus straightened to his full, lean height and tilted his head back. The silence pressed upon him and calmed him. After several deep breaths, he opened his eyes once more. Everything was just the same – the gigantic hourglasses below held the glittering, precious gemstones; the torches in the brackets along the wall behind him flickered in the draft. Ignotus knew he would have to return to the Tower quickly, before the sun went down. Students were not allowed outside of their common rooms once darkness fell.

But as he turned to go, he heard a soft giggle one floor below him. Frowning, he glanced over the marble banister. But the sound was suddenly no more, and silence reigned again. Ignotus wondered for a brief second if he had dreamed the noise, but he couldn't see how he possibly imagined it in light of how he felt inside. Apparently, someone was happier than he was at this moment, and also roaming the halls unattended. He sighed heavily and slowly returned to the familiar path that led to the tower reserved for the students of Godric Gryffindor, as overwhelming emotions warred in his heart and brain, threatening to make him ill. Though it seemed like an eternity, it was only minutes later when he stopped before the portrait of a slender, beautiful woman in a long black dress, standing amongst a painted forest.

"Password?" she inquired demurely.

Ignotus rubbed his palms over his eyes and up his forehead, trying to push the horrible ache in his head out. It didn't work. His father was dead.

He dropped his hands to his sides and he blinked blearily at the slender woman, whom the students of Godric Gryffindor called Nerthus. She was watching him benignly. From what Godric had told them, Nerthus had been an incredibly powerful witch who had walked the land three hundred years prior, teaching young witches and wizards that wished to learn the secrets of magic in the secluded forests and vast moors in the east of England, away from the prying eyes of Muggles. Nerthus herself, in the portrait, had told them nothing of her past or her life – she simply asked them for the password each time they approached. Perhaps her past wasn't important to the portrait's duty within the castle, but the students had often been interested in her history. Their attempts to discover it had, as usual, led to silence, which only made them wonder more about Nerthus's achievements.

"Hidden Path," Ignotus answered dully, knowing it was pointless not to answer and remain in the cold corridor.

"Correct," she answered. The portrait cracked open, and Ignotus pulled it forward to step into the entrance of the common room. Godric Gryffindor loved to create new passwords and all of his ideas had special meanings. "Hidden Path" had been his latest stroke of brilliance; the meaning referred to the secret paths of knowledge that resourceful wizards and witches would need to explore to become truly powerful masters of their arts.

As the portrait of Nerthus swung shut behind Ignotus, a wave of warmth caused his extremities tingle. There was a roaring fire blazing in the hearth, and several students were gathered around it on the braided hearthrug, pouring over texts and scrolls of parchment for their studies. In one corner, a young girl with long, dark auburn hair was quietly weaving a magical tapestry, using her wand to direct the threads on the makeshift loom she had erected. Other students were sitting at carved wooden tables working on assignments set to them, and a few who had already completed their work were playing Gobstones or chess on the floor.

More often than not, the common room of the Gryffindors made Ignotus feel warm and welcome. He was among friends – fellow students selected for their bravery, courage and daring. But tonight the warm, cozy room did nothing for him. He felt heavy, dejected, and crippled. Without speaking to any of his friends, Ignotus trudged to the dormitories used by the young men. The spiral staircase felt much tighter and longer than usual, as though it would cave in on him if he stopped climbing. When he reached the landing of the Sixth Years, Ignotus felt exceptionally exhausted and was grateful his bed was close to the door. He toppled upon it, not even bothering to close the curtains around him.

An overwhelming grief swept through his limbs. He wondered if Antioch had thought to write their mother, or if Quilla Peverell had not yet discovered that her husband was dead. Ignotus found he did not have the strength to sit up and get a slip of parchment to write the heartbreaking letter, and would ask Antioch later which of them should accept the task at hand.

He rolled to his back and stared at the canopy above him. He would never see his father again. It was devastating. He could no longer send an owl home with a letter, telling his father that Master Godric had praised him for his exceptional magical abilities, or that he had received high marks on an essay set by Master Salazar or Mistress Rowena. Corvus Peverell had been proud of all three of his sons, but Ignotus had proven that his powers were as strong as his brothers' even at the age of eleven, when he cast a difficult spell that was far above his level of learning the summer after his first year with the Founders of Hogwarts. Godric had been amazed and excited upon learning this news, and Ignotus had been trained heavily in Defense Against the Dark Arts since his second year as a result of his abilities. He was now one of the strongest among the students.

But magical ability and strength was not helping him now. He closed his eyes and swallowed. He would not cry. It would be weak, and he _must_ be strong. He _had_ to be strong. Antioch was too angry and Cadmus too disheartened. That only left Ignotus, and he was one of Godric's students. He would not let his Founder down.

Unexpectedly, the door pressed open against his wishes. At the abrupt sound of the creak, Ignotus quickly rolled to his side, hoping the visitor was simply one of his classmates searching for a quill or parchment to complete an essay. He gazed towards the window, watching as the stars began to appear in the twilight. The night would be too long and too painful. He wondered if he would sleep at all.

And then a soft voice broke his thoughts.

"Ignotus?"

Startled, Ignotus twisted onto his back again. Leaning around the heavy wooden door stood the girl who had been working at the loom downstairs, her hair falling in soft waves over the shoulders of her floor-length robes.

"Are…are you all right?" she asked hesitantly. "Rowe called to you downstairs, but I don't think you heard him when you came in."

Ignotus was at a loss for words for various reasons. Aside from his father's death, the girl was looking at him with such a concerned expression in her beautiful brown eyes that it was enough to melt his knees.

After all, Callisto Stewart was staggeringly beautiful, perfectly shy, and wonderfully kind. He had always nursed a soft spot for her in the past six years of study. Callisto was talented and quick to learn, but nothing was known about her family except that her parents were dead, and that she was, apparently, a pureblood. None of her classmates, even her fellow Gryffindors, knew where she went during summer holidays or who her relatives were. Supposedly someone had once asked her, but Callisto had not responded, and no one had dreamed of asking her again. But despite her mystery, the boys were attracted to her beauty, which seemed to have something of the wild moors lurking in the pale, slender shadows of her face, and the intelligence that she demonstrated in her studies.

Ignotus was still entranced by her eyes, and he felt warmth creeping up his neck. Finally, he stammered, "My father was killed in battle two weeks ago. I just found out half an hour ago from my brothers. They've returned to Hogwarts after the Findley clan lost to the MacBain clan."

Callisto gasped softly, her slender hand covering her mouth. Her expression suddenly became sympathetic and distraught, and it nearly broke Ignotus's heart to see her so concerned. She had clearly not been expecting anything so serious, and after a moment she whispered, "Oh, Ignotus…I'm so sorry!"

"Please don't mention it downstairs," he begged, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He couldn't explain why, but he didn't want his friends to know yet. His father had died in a lost battle and somehow, that thought was humiliating. Everyone would find out soon enough and he would endure any comments then.

"I won't," Callisto promised. She diverted her eyes as she turned to leave. "I'll tell them you don't feel well, if it so pleases you. Do you want me to bring your dinner up?"

The very thought of eating in silence with Callisto reclining his bed made his blood heat unexpectedly, but after a moment's reflection he reluctantly shook his head. He shouldn't feel like eating at all, after learning the awful truth from Antioch and Cadmus, and he _certainly_ shouldn't feel like whispering soft nothings to a pretty girl who was being kind to him. That was coarse and ungentlemanly. He would just be using her, and he cared about her too much to do _that_.

Sadly, he said, "No. But thank you."

She blushed a soft pink, nodded solemnly, and shut the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, Ignotus sank back onto the bed. Despite his father's death, watching the hurt in Callisto Stewart's eyes was harder to deal with than the pain he felt in his heart. He wished he had not upset her. He wished he could have wrapped his arms around her soft, slender body, and told her not to worry about him. He wished he could have kissed the blush in her cheeks and then her full lips, and instinctively he gritted his teeth. He had other concerns on his mind than wishing for the company of a beautiful, kind girl. His father was dead.

oOo

"Quiet! Someone will hear, and we'll both be punished! As if my life hasn't been bad enough lately!"

"I am sorry! But you've been gone so long, Cadmus. I've missed you terribly. You must know I've been desperate for you! Haven't you ached for me?"

"How could you doubt that I have?" he hissed.

The corridor was dark, deserted, and chilly. An open window at the further end was letting in a cold draught of air, which had extinguished the torches set along the walls, plunging the two lovers into shadows. It was only a matter of time before one of the Founders ventured down this corridor in their nightly rounds, and discovered the torches, the draught, and possibly two students out of bed after the sun had set. Cadmus Peverell preferred to at least put on the front that he obeyed the rules, even if he personally believed rules were only set in place for those who were too weak or too young to know differently. And he was neither.

Besides, he felt he should be allowed _some_ liberty given the circumstances what he had endured the past few weeks, including more... _sensual_ liberties.

Like the girl currently in his arms. Her name was Cearo Raedwald; a young witch renowned for her fair beauty. Her golden hair flowed past her waist in soft swirling waves, which she often kept pulled back with ribbons or soft leather ties. Her eyes were dark blue and her complexion creamy. Her father was a wealthy warlord who gave his only child everything her heart desired. His only stipulation was for Cearo to marry well, to someone of his liking and equal status in monetary terms. He had little knowledge that she had pledged herself to Cadmus Peverell, but Cadmus was certain Raedwald would not look unkindly on the match – Cadmus was, after all, a pureblood from a wealthy family of honorable, proud wizards.

However, he wasn't thinking about the girl's father at the moment.

He wasn't even thinking about being _nice_ to her – she was here for one purpose, and a small part of him desperately hoped that one purpose would enable him to forget the horrors of the past few weeks.

Resolutely, he pushed the thought of battle cries and screams and blood to the back of his mind, swallowed hard, and focused on the beautiful dress Cearo was wearing. Because of her wealth, Cearo's gowns were always rich and made of velvet or silks. The one adorning her body now was dark yellow with a black sash to represent her Founder's colors; the sash, however, hung low on her curved hips and tied even lower on her slender belly, with the two strips of fabric tumbling towards the floor and tied at the ends with burnished golden rings. As his eyes dropped to the tie of the sash, a rush of heat surged in his loins, and Cearo smiled sweetly at him.

"That's the look I was hoping for," she murmured, untying the leather straps that held his black tunic together. "That is what tells me you have not forgotten me."

In response, his hips pressed to hers, pushing her into the rough stones of the wall, and he kissed her firm and hard. He had missed this in battle and he had desired it so many times while waiting for the fighting to begin once more – the feel of Cearo's body against his hardness of her mouth moving sensually with his lips.

Cearo leaned her head back in pleasure when his mouth released hers to skim her throat. "It's been so long," she groaned, opening his tunic and sliding her hands beneath the rough white undershirt. Her fingers traced his ribs and chest sensually, following the natural contours by heart.

"Yes," he panted. He dared not open the sash here, lest someone walked by. But he throbbed for her, and he knew they both needed to find an empty room quickly. The battle cries were more distant in his brain with other parts of his body more demanding and insistent. Ten feet to his left was a classroom door, and Cadmus grabbed Cearo's wrist, pulling her roughly towards the empty room. She followed eagerly, not complaining about the treatment she was receiving at his hand or even the unspoken fact that he was merely using her this time to relieve pain and forget his father's death.

Cadmus had barely sealed the door before Cearo was pushing his tunic and undershirt over his head, fumbling in the darkness and in her own desire. As his clothing fell to the floor, he pushed her backwards until she banged into a wooden table and toppled on it. Desperate, Cadmus pulled at the tie in the sash, and the two rings on the ends clattered to the floor while the fabric slid noiselessly down Cearo's hips. Free of restraints, the dress slid off her pale shoulders; he could just distinguish her soft skin the dark. His mouth found her curves, and he traced it with his lips, feeling the softness. He could smell her heady scent; it drove him mad, and his erection pressed into his leather breeches at the sound of Cearo's low, husky groans. Her body flowed with his, so perfect against him.

The velvet dress joined the sash on the floor moments later, and the rough pads of Cadmus' fingers grappled her breasts, squeezing and tweaking the hard peaks that thrust towards him. Below, he could feel Cearo snatching at his laced breaches, her hands hurriedly delving in to stroke him and pull him towards her. She had slid back on the rough, hard surface of the table, no doubt scuffing the smooth skin of her back. Her legs were already wide open; he could smell the musky scent of sex even stronger with her legs parted in invitation. His sweaty body slid against hers as he clambered on top the desk and hovered over her, and he heard her wand clatter to the stone floor. Her mouth found his – her tongue thrust into his lips and she kissed him deeply, begging him, pleading for him to come to her, and Cadmus quickly pushed into her, groaning at the tight heat that suddenly enveloped him. How had he been thinking of his father only ten minutes ago?

Beneath him, Cearo's hips arched and quivered, pressing firmly to his pelvis. She must have bitten her lower lip to keep from screaming in pleasure, because he vaguely heard the muffled cry deep in her slender throat. His mouth found hers again. He tasted the copper of blood, and it nearly drove him over the edge as he began to pound into her. She met his thrusts, her body already coated in a fine sheen of sweat as she slid sensually against him.

He had no way of knowing that she had forgotten, in the lustful heat of finally having her lover after so many months, to cast a Contraception Charm.

oOo

The students of Salazar Slytherin had been quite pleased to see Antioch Peverell enter their dark common room that night. After all, he was eighteen years of age, and technically beyond the years of study. But then, it was common knowledge that Master Salazar had taken a keen liking to the pure blooded heir of the Peverell family; obviously, this was why he had allowed the eighteen-year-old man to return to Hogwarts for yet another year. But despite the cheerful greetings, Antioch only nodded coldly to a few of the others as he made his way through the tall-backed chairs and the intricately carved tables to the dormitories. Striding firmly to avoid being detained, he tugged his cloak off and quickly unlaced his tunic, wanting to put on something more comfortable and write his mother – a chore he detested, because it would devastate her, and none of her sons were home to ease the pain the letter would evoke.

The dormitory was dark and after tossing the cloak on an empty bed along with his tunic and shirt, Antioch pointed his wand at the empty fireplace in the room. The flames instantly danced upwards, filling the small dormitory with excessive warmth. Sighing heavily, he slowly sat down at the desk he had used for seven years and lit a few small candles on the edges. Then, unwillingly, he pulled a slip of parchment from one of the drawers and prepared his quill.

The letter was extremely hard to write. Scowling, he wrote a few opening lines of greeting and explained that he and Cadmus had returned to Hogwarts safely, whilst trying to decide how best to approach the grievous subject of his father's untimely, horrible death in a grim war.

He quickly became so engrossed in his work that he did not hear the dormitory door open, and only when a slender hand caressed his shoulder did he realize he was not alone. But the hand was familiar and as such, Antioch was hardly even startled by it. He certainly did not look up, but remained bent over his work, allowing his shoulder-length, wavy black hair to hide his face.

"Father told me you had returned," the low voice purred in his ear. "I felt it necessary to seek you out before you retired to bed and welcome you home to the castle. I did not see you at dinner, Antioch."

He felt soft lips move down his neck, but unlike all the times before, they did not rouse his senses.

Instead, he muttered, "I am quite busy, Serpentina. I have a rather important letter to construct." He glanced coldly at the woman standing next to him for the briefest second.

Her eyes were a dark, lusty green, and her hair was as black as his, almost past her knees in rich waves. The dress she wore was half off one shoulder, intended for tantalizing the man of her choice, and quite fitting to her slender, curvy figure. Serpentina Slytherin would never select one she felt was unworthy and she had chosen Antioch a year prior, much to the approval of her father and the disappointment of other young men who had been bewitched by the young woman's dark beauty.

"I see," she retorted. A sarcastic smile twisted the pretty mouth. "I am sorry this letter requires your full attention at this precise moment."

"It does." He returned to the parchment. "I must write to my mother and explain my father's death in battle. It will undoubtedly be a difficult blow for her to absorb. It needs to be done immediately, however. She is not even aware Cadmus and I have returned to Hogwarts; she likely believes we are still in the north."

There was a pause, but Serpentina seemed to accept the answer. "Understandable," she finally murmured. Then, demurely, she slid her dress back onto her shoulder and turned to leave. "I shall see you at a more convenient time, then?"

But Antioch was hardly paying attention – he was writing again, explaining what had happened, why his father had agreed to fight Athol in a duel. He was seething with anger at the events he had had to endure and was still enduring constantly – watching his father's destruction at the hands of a man who boasted of more power and a stronger wand…the hasty retreat of the Findley Clan to avoid further losses...Cadmus screaming like a child while Antioch forcibly pulled him behind the lines…

The result was that the parchment was already quite blotchy with dots from the ink caused by Antioch's hate. His mother would not possibly understand what had happened to him this past summer and furthermore, he could not burden her with his problems. He had already half-forgotten Serpentina.

A dark shadow flickered in Serpentina's fine eyes before she quietly exited the room, leaving Antioch to the boiling hatred that was slowly consuming his being.


	2. Chapter 2 - Dealing with Death

**The Last Enemy**

**Chapter Two - Dealing with Death**

Groggily, still mostly asleep, Ignotus buried himself in the thick blankets covering his body. The heavy curtains around his four-poster let in no light, but he knew in a distant part of his brain that it had to be morning. After a moment he twisted and rolled, and in the process he nearly fell off the bed. Startled, Ignotus caught himself just in time, waking abruptly as his leg instinctively swung to the floor.

The realization of how close he had been to the edge was more effective than being doused with cold water. With a groan, he pushed himself back into the center of the bed and pressed his palms to his eyes. The rush of memories from the day before flooded his mind so fast it was actually painful – his father was dead and his brothers had grown apart from Ignotus, bonded together through the experience of war. The dead, angry look in Antioch's eyes and the dull expression on Cadmus' face were both fresh.

The second realization was how incredibly hungry he was. He had skipped dinner in remembrance of his father, and feigned sleep when his dormitory mates had come up to go to bed. Ross had tried to see if Ignotus was awake by calling his name softly, but Ignotus had never answered, and eventually his best friend had simply given up. Despite that, Ignotus had still overheard the whispered conversation Ross had had with Rowe and Ansen, as the three discussed the fact that they needed to treat Ignotus with caution during the next few days, given the turn of events. He gathered that Antioch and Cadmus had gone to dinner and now the entire school knew of the Peverell family's tragedy. Angrily, Ignotus had gripped the blankets so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but after a while, his friends went to sleep, and his fury faded into the same sadness he had been feeling earlier during the evening.

He would have to get something to eat this morning, but Ignotus didn't want to go into the Great Hall just yet. He wondered if he could Summon breakfast to his bed, or coerce a house-elf into helping him. And while he was at it, he needed to take a bath, too. He had been playing Quidditch and Shuntbumps the entire previous week during his free time, which had resulted in several falls and good-natured mud fights since the pitch still hadn't dried out from the rain at the start of the school year.

The bath was something he didn't particularly want, but Ignotus forced himself to get out of bed and cautiously peeked through his curtains. The dormitory was empty. And seeing as how the sunlight was streaming in through the tall windows, he was sure his mates were outside enjoying a perfect autumn Saturday. Sighing with relief, Ignotus slipped across the room and into the bathroom.

He made his way to the stone tub and turned several copper taps set into the wall beside it, which began to spout thick streams of water into the basin. Indoor baths had been Mistress Helga's idea, according to some of the house-elves. Rumor had it that she had been absolutely appalled when Master Godric suggested the students jump in the lake whenever they got too dirty, and she devised special stone rooms for each dormitory with water taps and deep tubs; a true novelty and a bit odd for the students who only knew of baths in the sense of filling a tub with well or river water once a week.

As the stone hollow filled with hot water, Ignotus slowly stripped his clothing off until he was naked. Despite the tapestries in the dormitory to keep the cold out, it was still chilly, and with chattering teeth he climbed into the tub and sank down to his chin, relaxing after a few tense moments. The heat of the water quickly seeped into his skin however, until he felt perfectly warm and his eyes drifted shut. He could almost forget tragedy here, stretched out in the hot water. It was amusing – he always hated the idea of a bath until he actually got into the water and soaked.

"You'll go to sleep and the water will get cold," a soft voice said. "Then you'll freeze."

The voice jarred Ignotus so much that he jerked sharply out of his doze and sent water splashing across the stone floor. He instinctively pressed his legs together as he glanced behind him and stared in shock at Callisto, who was standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

"W-what are you…? What…? This is the _boy's_ dormitory!" he finally spluttered.

Callisto blushed a beautiful soft pink and kept her eyes diverted. She was wearing a gown of deep wine red, with a long black cloak over her shoulders. "Ross said you were still asleep, so I brought your breakfast up. You didn't eat dinner…I thought you might be hungry. I didn't realize you were in the bath until I stepped in. I am sorry."

Ignotus opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out.

Callisto tucked a long brown curl behind her ear and swallowed. "I'll just…wait outside." With that, she turned quickly and stepped back into the dormitory, closing the heavy wooden door behind her.

Flustered and suddenly incredibly hot despite the water, Ignotus dunked beneath the surface and emerged completely soaked, with rivulets running down his face from his now plastered, dripping hair. Pushing it off his forehead, and making it stick up in all directions; he looked back at the door, dumbfounded. Callisto Stewart had walked in on his _bath_. He was naked, she was stunning, and he wondered for a wild second what it would be like to soak in a stone bath of hot water _with_ her. The thought of Callisto naked and pressed to his body made his cock react instantly, and Ignotus gritted his teeth and clenched his hands together. She was an excellent distraction from everything else – that was certain.

After a few minutes, he finally managed to stagger to his feet, now limp but not exactly sated. Rising out of the water invited the cold to tingle his skin, and he grabbed a thick towel from the rack beside the tub and began to dry off. He then preformed a quick cleaning spell on his clothes and hurriedly dressed.

When Ignotus stepped into the dormitory again, flushed and embarrassed, he found Callisto sitting on the edge of his bed with a tray of hot porridge and warm milk. He suddenly remembered just how starved he was, and it smelled wonderful.

She was still pink as well, as she rose to place the tray on his desk. He sat down and immediately began to eat, trying not to look at her. But after a couple of bites, a sudden, soft heat made him look up – his very head was growing warm.

"You'll catch cold if you leave your hair wet," she said softly.

She was using her wand to dry the thick black locks.

"Thank you," he whispered. He didn't trust his voice, and it was hard not to be head over heels for a beautiful girl who brought your breakfast up, didn't mind to see you naked, and dried your hair while you ate.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your bath," she said, her voice apologetic and quiet. "I'm really sorry, Ignotus."

"It's fine. Please don't worry about it. I…I didn't mean to get upset. You just surprised me." He swallowed a spoon of porridge, though it seemed to have a difficult time going down his throat. When he finally felt he could open his mouth again, he whispered, "What are the others saying?"

Callisto was silent for a moment – she had finished drying his hair, and she slowly sat back down on his bed. Her eyes lifted to meet his, and she bravely said, "Most of the House of Gryffindor feel as you do, because you are one of us. They grieve _with_ you, Ignotus. Just as the Houses of Slytherin and Ravenclaw grieve with Antioch and Cadmus."

Ignotus almost bent his spoon as a sudden onrush of anger filled him. "I don't want pity! I just want to forget!"

In response, she merely said, "The death of someone you love isn't something you forget."

He stopped and stared at her. He had temporarily forgotten that she had no parents, and he wondered with a fresh pang of guilt at, how in the time span of six years, he had never asked her what had happened to them. No one ever had, to his knowledge.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean it quite that way. I just meant –"

"I know what you meant. You meant that you want to the pain to end…that you want to feel like Ignotus again, and not as though a worm were eating at you from the inside out."

Ignotus stared at her.

Callisto smiled sadly. "I was five when my parents died."

"I'm sorry."

He looked back at his breakfast guiltily. He was unsure what to say, but Callisto, at least, seemed to understand how he felt. For a moment, he pushed the mushy porridge about in the pewter bowl.

"Just because you lose someone doesn't mean you will forever feel as though the pain will constantly eat you. After a few months, perhaps a year or two, the pain fades and becomes dull, and then after another year, you find that you are living again, and you wonder how you ever did it." Callisto touched his arm and rose gracefully. "But in the meantime, the House of Godric Gryffindor stands besides you."

In a small voice, Ignotus asked, "When your parents died…who took you in? You were so young – you didn't have housemates to help you."

"My uncle took me in. He's a very kind wizard. He even sought revenge on the dark wizards who killed my parents so I would not grow up with thirsting for their blood. He is a very brave man. The bravest in the world, I believe." She squeezed his arm, but before Ignotus could ask further questions, Callisto had left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

For a long while, Ignotus sat at his desk staring into the bowl of porridge, until at last it grew so cold he could not force himself to eat anymore. Callisto's words repeated themselves in his head, and he wondered when he would look back without feeling the pain. He could not see so far into the future, and though Callisto had trodden this path before, taking her advice at face value was difficult. Slowly, Ignotus stood up and fastened his cloak around his shoulders. The dormitory was suddenly claustrophobic, and he had a maddening desire to escape to the bitter outdoors.

As he stepped off the staircase into the common room, he wished he could become invisible – several of his mates were gathered around the fire, playing chess. Silently, Ignotus cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, before exiting through the portrait hole. No one saw him, though he did hear Perseus comment that he saw a blimp of movement against the wall and that he thought the portrait had opened. Before a gaggle of curious, not to mention hot-headed, Gryffindor wizards could inspect the area to determine if a member of another house had invaded their common room, Ignotus broke into a run down the corridor, taking a shortcut through a tapestry of a forest full of stags and down the spiraling staircase to the fifth floor. He didn't stop running until he reached the marble staircase, and he was grateful to find that it was empty. He removed the charm he had placed on his body and quickly headed outside into the cold wind.

Only, the wind was worse than cold – it cut through Ignotus's thick woolen cloak like icy needles and stung his face. Rather than keep the cloak bundled tightly about his lithe frame, Ignotus started to run again, down the sweeping lawn towards the lake, letting the energy warm his body. He ducked behind a tall, stoned wall that extended on part of the path, and only when he found a secluded alcove did he sit down on the stone bench within. Here, the wind did not cut through. The high arch of stones and a statute of a Greek witch, dressed in a long robe that left one shoulder and both arms bare, sheltered him. He sighed and leaned against the cold masonry, catching his breath with tightly closed eyes. Staying here for a few hours seemed quite plausible.

"Unless you catch your death of cold," a voice drawled lightly, as though it had read his mind.

Ignotus sat up abruptly, his eyes snapping open. To his surprise, Godric Gryffindor stood before him, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. He seemed completely unconcerned by the wind, which made his hair look untamed and wild. Without invitation, Ignotus's Founder sat beside him, and turned his gaze towards the row of hedges opposite them.

"The cold weather fires the blood," he commented heartily. "It gives strength."

Keeping his eyes diverted, Ignotus desperately tried to think of an answer for Godric, but his brain seemed stuck.

"I saw you sprinting down the hillside. I had a distinct feeling you were trying to escape, Ignotus."

"Not at all! I am not a coward!" The words blurted from Ignotus's mouth before he considered them, and he stiffened when they echoed in the cold air. He was being impertinent.

"Hold!" Godric chuckled with good nature. "No one said you were, boy."

Ashamed, Ignotus winced. "I apologize, Master Godric. It was ill of me to say so."

"There is no need to apologize." Godric gently placed his strong hand on Ignotus's shoulder. "You had a terrible blow yesterday and quite honestly, I did not expect you to remain in the tower. I would have been astounded if you had." He paused and turned his golden gaze towards the forest, watching the wind snatch at the leafless branches. "Winter has come early this year," he sighed. "In so many ways."

Ignotus looked up at the dead trees and swallowed. "I wish…if I had just been there…perhaps I could have…"

Godric shook his head. "No. You do not want to wish it, and even if you _had_been there, there was nothing you could have done. Even your brothers were unable to prevent Destiny. I am not suggesting that your skills are not formidable – quite the opposite. You have extremely impressive skill, Ignotus… quite extraordinary for one your age. But you are not ready for war yet." He sighed wearily. "No one is ever ready for war."

"I feel as though I am! I was ready last summer when Antioch and Cadmus left home to fight! I'm sixteen! I'm a man just as they are!"

Godric smiled sadly. "But you _are_ the youngest, and someone had to care for your mother. She would have been devastated if you had left with your brothers to fight in the Clan Wars. If you had, all of her family would have been in grave danger. And you still have much to learn here, Ignotus."

"You constantly tell me I have power above those of my age! Now you tell me I have much to learn –!"

"We all have much to learn. Even I. Learning does not stop when you turn seventeen; it does not stop when you turn one hundred and seventeen. You are young Ignotus, but I did not mean that your youth makes you a coward, nor does it devalue your bravery and courage. I simply meant your skills are needed elsewhere at this time."

Ignotus took a different approach and gloomily said, "If I had bravery and courage, I would have gone with my brothers. You accepted me to learn beneath you, Master Godric. They were not selected for bravery and courage as I was, and yet I was the one who remained behind."

"They know that despite your bravery and courage, you were not old enough to accompany them this year."

"But did my father know it? He knew you had taken me in as one of your students! He expected great things of me…I wanted to fight alongside him to prove myself! I wanted him to know I was not afraid to fight!" Tears pricked Ignotus's lashes, and he angrily clenched his fists. "Now he's dead, and he will enter the afterlife believing I was nothing compared to my brothers…he will believe I am just a coward who returned to school rather than to the north of Scotland to fight in the wars like a brave man of our family should have done!"

Godric remained silent for a moment before he murmured, "Your father knew you are braver than your brothers. He wrote me several times to express his admiration of your qualities, Ignotus. I would not wish you to continue your life believing your father disapproved of you, because that is _not_ the truth."

Ignotus looked at him helplessly. "Will the pain ever cease?" he asked, realizing how childish the words must sound; how childish everything he had been saying must have sounded.

But Godric did not say he had been childish, nor did he look at Ignotus with disappointment. Instead, his voice was kind and sad. "The pain will cease, eventually. A dull hollow that will forever remain within you will likely replace it; the knowledge of your father's death and this trying time will forever be a part of you. But that is the way of life, Ignotus. It is a cycle, never-ending and timeless, like so many things in our world. Like war and battle. War never ceases, you see. There are times of peace, of course. But where there is peace, there will always be those to start war, and those to stop it again, and so it continues. I daresay you will one day have chance enough to prove yourself in battle, though having been in battle myself I cannot help but wish otherwise for you, Ignotus. Battle and war are not the things of glory that others would have you believe. They are bleak, grim parts of life that sap your strength and the power of your soul."

"But remember this," he added, when Ignotus looked thoroughly horrified and depressed at his words. "Where there are battles and war that drain life, there will there also be courage, bravery, and goodness. For therein lies the timeless struggle: Good pitched against Evil. And each man must decide for himself which side he will fight against, even in the grayest of battles where the lines do not appear properly drawn."

Ignotus looked surprised at first; then his expression became determined, if not a bit irritated. "I will fight on the side of Good, of course. Always."

Godric shook his head. "And yet, it is not always so simple, my boy. I fear my words mean little to you now, but one day they will."

"I am trying to make sense of them, sir."

"And I credit you with that!" Godric chuckled softly. "You are always eager to learn and grasp the truth of things."

"If I may say it, sir…" Ignotus swallowed. "Today my mind feels as though it has been wrung out thoroughly; as though I cannot think at all."

"It will feel that way for several days, I fear. But I wish you to remember that I am here for you. If you desire to talk, I ask you to seek me. However, do not leave the castle or the immediate grounds. Winter is a dangerous time of year."

Ignotus nodded solemnly. "As you wish, sir."

"Let us return inside." Godric rose, his tall frame towering over Ignotus, who was in his own right quite tall. "It is bitter out, isn't it?" He looked towards the sky. "I expect we shall have snow before two weeks."

"I dislike winter," Ignotus said moodily. "It is too cold."

"You prefer the summer." His Founder nodded in agreement. "But it is because you were born in the seventh month. I've noticed that Antioch prefers the winter, whilst Cadmus prefers the autumn. We all prefer the season we were born into. An interesting magic in its own right."

Unsure how to respond or what this meant, Ignotus chose to remain silent – the conversation had taken a more intellectual turn, but deep inside he still felt drained and exhausted and unlike himself. He half-wished he could remain outdoors and let the bleakness seep into his body and soul, but his master was right: it would only serve to make him ill with fever if he were to ignore prudence.

To his surprise however, Ignotus found upon entering the entry hall that he was quite frozen from a mere fifteen minutes out of doors. He wondered why he had been so stupid as to venture forth into such weather, even for a short period of time.

Godric broke his thoughts. "You may wish to seek your brothers today," he said. "They are undoubtedly as troubled as you are regarding the recent events. It may help to speak to them, to comfort them if possible."

Ignotus nodded, though he had no real conviction to seek out either Antioch or Cadmus. Both his brothers had changed drastically in the few months they had spent in the North, and he felt as though they had crossed an invisible bridge to a new place while he remained stuck on the opposite side, separated from them.

"I know Cadmus is quite unlike himself," a soft, musical voice added gravely.

Ignotus and Godric turned, and both bowed politely to Rowena Ravenclaw as she approached them. She added, "He is quite troubled by your father's death, Ignotus. I only just caught him wandering the upper halls, though I confess I could not bring myself to issue a punishment for breaking the rules and leaving the tower. Some instances exceed the rules we set," she said thoughtfully.

"A little rule breaking is necessary now and again." Godric's voice was light and pleasant, and he winked slyly at Ignotus, who found that he grinned slightly in return.

Then he realized how odd it felt to smile, as though the muscles were stiff and it were all wrong. How could he smile when his father had been killed? Horrified and angry with himself, Ignotus let his face return to the moody, sullen expression it had been wearing only seconds before.

"Oddly, I agree, Godric." Rowena pressed a slender finger to her lips, still thinking. Then, abruptly, her face returned to a mask-like state as well. "I will meet with you later, good sir. I must collect my parchments for next week's lessons. We have much to discuss before we meet this afternoon." With another slight bow, she turned and floated up the marble staircase in a billow of blue robes.

"See if you can find your brother," Godric suggested. "As Rowena so rightly says, we are meeting this afternoon to discuss lessons and I too must gather my parchments." He managed a smile at Ignotus before he followed Rowena.

Alone, Ignotus looked about the empty entrance hall. Cadmus could be anywhere, but his favorite location to review his lessons, when students were allowed in the halls, was a small alcove on the sixth floor, tucked away in a narrow corridor that faced the lake. And Rowena Ravenclaw had just stated he was wandering on the upper floors. Ignotus headed there.

It did not take him long to reach his destination. And as he rounded the corner to the corridor in question on the sixth floor, he could see a woman standing with her back to him, facing the alcove he was seeking. The gold of her gown indicated she belonged beneath Helga Hufflepuff. Ignotus hesitated. He was not overly fond of his brother's beloved: Cearo Raedwald. Her wealth and her family's power often brought forth an attitude of nobility and she had the distinct ability to look down on others whom she believed less than herself. Coupled with her simpering devotion to Cadmus, which was unwavering, made her practically unbearable and Ignotus could only spend a few moments in her presence before quickly finding something else to occupy his time, instead.

However, he could not escape. Cearo had heard his footsteps, and she turned in curiosity to see who was approaching. When she realized it was her lover's brother, she regarded Ignotus with a surprised expression. Then, putting her back to him once more, he heard her murmur, "Your brother".

Cadmus's head appeared from the alcove where he was obviously sitting. For the briefest second he looked hopeful, but upon seeing the brother she had referred to was Ignotus and not Antioch, his face retained a hard, dispassionate expression and he disappeared into the alcove again.

Now angry, Ignotus stalked forward, ignoring Cearo and stopping before the alcove. Cadmus was sitting on the bench within, his knees drawn to his chest. He did not look at his younger brother and Ignotus had to remind himself not to lose his temper just yet.

Instead, he said shortly, "Mistress Rowena advised me you were wandering the castle. She assigned me the task of locating you."

"For what purpose?" Cadmus muttered, his eyes still focused on the wall.

"Damned if I know," Ignotus snapped. "Something about comforting you, but you obviously do not wish to see me."

Cearo frowned at them and spoke before Cadmus could. "Neither of you should be angry with the other," she said, pouting slightly. "Cadmus, your brother is just as hurt as you are about what happened to your father."

"He wasn't there. He didn't see it." Cadmus was holding something in his hand, twisting it beneath his fingers. His knuckles clutched convulsively on the object, hiding it completely from Ignotus's view.

"That doesn't mean he isn't hurt," Cearo reiterated.

Ignotus was surprised the girl was taking his side at all. She had never seemed to care for him much, either. Perhaps he had misjudged her. He wondered what the change had been.

"I watched my father die." Cadmus suddenly looked quite furious; the expression made Ignotus tense. It was strange and frightening. He had assumed his brothers would be dealing with their father's death the same way he was – but clearly, Cadmus was dealing with the ordeal in an entirely different manner.

"I never said you didn't watch him die." Ignotus heard his voice, but couldn't remember opening his mouth.

"You weren't there."

"No." Ignotus felt the pain again, as he had outside while speaking to Godric about his feelings of remorse for not being with his brothers and father in battle. "That doesn't mean I didn't want to be there, to help. Someone had to stay with mother. I certainly did not choose to be the youngest."

"And your task," Cearo said, "was just as important as Cadmus and Antioch's."

He stared at her, dumbfounded again that she was being so nice to him for once. She had always been so utterly devoted to Cadmus.

Cearo seemed to see his surprise; she smiled softly at him. "Dramatic events can change people." She shrugged one shoulder in her usual haughty way, quite unknowingly. "I have never thought of how you felt until just recently – Cadmus has been quite distraught by what has happened and it occurred to me that you must feel worse having heard the news so unwittingly when they returned. It must have been hard for you, too – though in a different way."

Startled, he said, "Yes. Thank you."

She inclined her head politely.

Cadmus however, did not seem happy with Cearo's sudden niceties to Ignotus. He glowered at her. "He did not watch father's blood spill or hear his scream when he died." His voice was full of malice which was designed to cut Ignotus to the quick; Ignotus had braced himself as best he could when he had seem the sudden, hateful gleam in Cadmus's eyes before he spoke.

"You are only half correct," a cold voice replied. "He did not see father's blood spill, but father never screamed. The scream you heard was your own, Cadmus."

Cadmus visibly flinched. Ignotus turned sharply to face his oldest brother; Antioch was carrying two large tomes under one arm as though they weighed little and his face was set in hard lines as he glared at Cadmus. Ignotus had not even heard his footsteps in the hall prior to his arrival.

"Do not take your emotions out on Ignotus," Antioch went on harshly. "Miss Raedwald is quite correct, in that Ignotus had a different, though no less important task to fulfill while we did battle in the Clan Wars. He does not deserve your censure, so cease."

Cadmus's knuckles were white. "He is a coward."

This time, Ignotus's temper broke his self-control and he snatched his wand from his robes before Cadmus could react. As he pressed the tip of the wood at his brother's throat he snarled, "Do not _dare_ call me a coward!"

A moment later, Antioch's strong fingers closed on his wrist, calmly drawing Ignotus's wand away from Cadmus, while Cadmus looked both stunned and furious. Ignotus fought against his brother's hand in vain.

"That won't help matters," Antioch said sternly, scowling at Ignotus. "So calm your temper. _Now_." He then turned the scowl on Cadmus. "And you. Do not torment him. He is no coward. The coward," he said with disgust, "is you. The scream you heard when father fell was your own. You screamed and cried like a child who had no regard for manhood or dignity. Would it better Ignotus _had _come with father and me to the north to fight, and we had left you at home with mother. He at least would have displayed courage in battle. He was not chosen to learn beneath Master Godric if not for that."

"I do not have to take such insults!" Cadmus yelled, rising from the alcove and glaring at Antioch, who stood several inches taller and did not appear troubled by his brother's anger in the least. "I watched my father die!"

"As did I," Antioch reminded him frostily. "Do not forget that, Cadmus. You are not the only one who suffers the pain of death. However, you should find some way to channel your pain, as I am doing."

"Studying wandlore?" Cadmus sneered. "As if that will help?"

Antioch did not appear perturbed by the outburst. "Likely. Athol claimed he had a superior wand, which enabled him to defeat the most battle-hardened and accomplished of warriors. Wands are, however, created by wizards and it is said that a wand is only as good as the wizard who wields it. If I can create a superior wand to Athol's, I could avenge father's death."

Cadmus laughed mirthlessly. "A meaningless task."

"Avenging father is meaningless?" Antioch asked slowly. There was a hard look in his eyes that made Ignotus tense just as he had when seeing the mad look on Cadmus's features before.

Venturing to interrupt and risk Antioch's anger, he queried, "Avenge, or revenge?"

"Call it what you wish. I care not." Antioch shrugged. "I intend to follow through with the idea regardless. Do not forget, Ignotus: despite my belief that you would have been the better brother to take with me into battle, you are still but sixteen and have much to learn. You are still a child."

Ignotus felt a surge of annoyance. "Those are the words Master Godric said this morning, only he left out the part about me being a child."

"You would be wise to listen to your Founder. He is correct. There is nothing to be done about what has come to pass, only what is yet to come."

"There is nothing yet to come," Cadmus interjected. He was trembling slightly; Cearo grasped his arm in concern but he did not look at her. "Father is dead, Antioch. And he should not be."

Antioch's lip curled. "It is not our place to question Destiny or what may have been had things taken a different turn. Facts are facts and cannot be changed."

"Can't they?" Cadmus's voice was quiet and it was almost as though he were speaking to himself. A sudden light flared in his dull eyes. "We are wizards, Antioch. Magic can indeed change things."

Ignotus shot Antioch a look of utmost concern – it sounded as though Cadmus were talking like a madman. The look Antioch gave his youngest brother in return indicated he thought so as well.

"Magic cannot change death," Antioch said slowly, glancing back at Cadmus.

"Can't it? Perhaps we have not yet studied deep enough." Cadmus's eyes glittered brightly, as though the idea were taking hold of him. "Perhaps we have not yet tapped into the deepest secrets of magic. There may be ways… I will have to think on it."

"Have you gone mad?" whispered Cearo. Her eyes flickered to Antioch and Ignotus, then back to her lover again. "The dead cannot be made alive again, Cadmus!"

"No? We shall see." Cadmus looked at Antioch smugly. "You wish to make a wand superior to all others and you suggest that I channel my anger as well. I shall take your suggestion and advise you once I have done additional research on this new idea. I shall come up with something much better than a mere _wand_."

And before Antioch or Ignotus could respond, Cadmus had taken Cearo's hand and was guiding her down the corridor and around the corner, despite her look of horror.

Ignotus shook his head once he was certain his brother was gone. "He is mad. What does he mean to do? Cearo is right – the dead remain dead." His shoulders dropped. "Much as I wish I could see father again, I know perfectly well there is no hope in _that_."

Antioch shifted the thick books, both of which Ignotus now noticed were on wandlore. "I know not. When father died, Cadmus's entire being changed. He would wake at night screaming or he would talk to himself during the day, as though he were talking to father, as if father were beside him to answer. The men in camp insisted he had lost his mind. I wonder now if they were not correct in their theories."

"And you?" Ignotus looked at his brother gravely. Antioch was always aloof and distant, but he was still the oldest and he did look out for his younger brothers in his own way. Ignotus could not help but feel concerned for him. Antioch would be carrying the most weight on his shoulders simply _because_ he was the oldest.

"I?" Antioch's eyes clouded. For a moment, he gazed down the corridor. Then he turned to Ignotus and smiled softly. "I will be myself again. Do not worry for me, brother."

"I worry for both of my brothers."

"Let me worry. You should focus on your studies." Antioch began to walk, indicating for Ignotus to come with him. "What will you focus on this year, Ignotus?" he asked, changing the conversation smoothly.

"Master Godric wishes me to focus on the Dark Arts and their Defenses, as usual." Ignotus sighed. "At the start of the term, he suggested I study privately with him and explore new spells and techniques, such as the Patronus Charm and other high-level spells designed to combat curses."

"A worthy field of study. One that suits you well."

"So Master Godric says."

"You are unsure?"

The fear that had been welling up inside of him all morning tentatively voiced itself. "I sometimes wonder if I am brave enough to studying beneath Master Godric."

Antioch turned down a flight of stairs to the third floor. "Do not let Cadmus's anger and brash words affect you so. He is only angry because he does not have your bravery and courage. Study Defense, Ignotus. It will serve a worthy purpose and be useful in the future, I believe."

When Antioch paused at a tapestry that concealed a door to the ground floor, Ignotus asked, "Where do you go today?"

"I intend to do research on wandlore in my dormitory. It is quiet there and I can spread my books out for better review. Once I have a basic understanding of the subject, I will walk to Hogsmeade to speak with Deogal Ollivander and see if he will accept me as a temporary apprentice. I could learn much from him."

"Be careful, Antioch."

A smirk etched Antioch's classic features. "I am always careful. Return to the tower and see your friends – last night they were worried about you when you didn't come to dinner."

Ignotus nodded and Antioch disappeared down the steps. But after his brother had left him alone, he shivered and decided he did not particularly wish to see his friends, even if they were worried about his well-being. What he really wanted to do was run again, run away, let the pounding of his feet on hard ground send shocks up his legs and keep him going onward.

Then he remembered his promise to his Founder to remain in the castle or the courtyards, and he knew he could not go back on his word. Sighing, his feet began to trudge in the direction of the seventh floor.

Running, he decided, was truly the act of a coward.

But he still wanted to run.

How could he be worthy of being a student of Godric Gryffindor if he was so terrified of death?


	3. Chapter 3 - The Death Debate

**The Last Enemy**

**Chapter Three - The Death Debate**

As groups of students hurried down the corridors to various lessons, Ignotus found that, just as the day before, he was trudging behind his fellow Gryffindors by several feet.

They weren't ignoring him, and in truth, he wasn't exactly ignoring them. But it was as though a rift had formed between them that Ignotus himself would have to bridge. The others were worried and concerned for him, but they would not push him to resume his former, cheerful, boisterous personality. They gave him space to think and grieve. Or perhaps they simply didn't know what to say, so they said nothing.

In one way, Ignotus was grateful for the distance. On the other hand, he was irritated by it. The distraction of being included in a large group of friends would have been a relief from the dark, lonely thoughts that had been consuming him for the past week. But with painful reflection, he decided that he probably wouldn't be able to pull off his usual laughter even if he were in the center of his fellow Gryffindors' antics, and he would only destroy his mates' cheerfulness with his grief. And that would be even worse. They didn't deserve that from him; this was his family's period of mourning. He would carry the burden of sadness alone until he felt he could cross the rift and be a part of his friends' lives once more as the Ignotus they remembered.

A deep green cloak brushed past him as he turned up a flight of stairs. He glanced quickly behind him, but Antioch did not turn round or speak. Since their verbal disagreement with Cadmus, the eldest Peverell brother had been rather distant as well. Even the students of Slytherin had commented that Antioch was keeping to himself more than usual these past few days.

With a heavy sigh, Ignotus began to climb again. He would have liked to speak to his brother, but Antioch was not one to share his problems or seek support from anyone, despite Ignotus's attempts to be kind and understanding. He suddenly wondered if his brother had been taking his previous attempts at kindness as a sign of weakness, and he winced at the very thought. Cadmus had already chastised him for being weak, and Ignotus hated the idea that at least one of his brothers felt he was not worthy to study beneath Master Godric.

Trying to clear his head from this mesh of thoughts, he focused instead on the scarlet cloaks of Ross, Perseus, Gaderian, Ansen, and Rowe, as his friends lighted upon the landing of the stairs and headed down a wide corridor towards this morning's classroom. They were eagerly discussing their latest Defense lecture, and Ignotus wished he could join in, but for once, he could think of nothing constructive to say.

The previous day, Godric had intrigued them with a discussion on honorable battle techniques that were quite powerful and effective. Godric was a master of many fields of magic, but Defense was one of his strongest, and his students were always enthralled with these types of lessons. Today, they would be practicing Defense on the fifth floor before heading to the Great Hall for dinner that afternoon, which would be followed by the first quarterly round table discussion on a topic selected by all four of the Founders. But no one was thinking of the later discussion: Ignotus's classmates were mostly thrilled to have a chance of practicing against their Master, because he was so good at dueling. It was challenging, though none of them ever believed they could defeat him. Godric was, after all, the best.

As they reached the classroom door, the Gryffindor girls joined them from the other end of the hall. Callisto, Edsel, Elva, Hesperia, and Cantrella wore long dresses and cloaks in their Founder's color, and were deep in conversation about the prior lecture as well.

Cantrella Dreux commanded attention as the boys drew nearer, as she always did, and Ignotus glanced up to listen to her just as the others had. Anything, he thought, to take his mind off everything else – even listening to Cantrella, who was a snobbish pureblood related to the wealthy, powerful House of Black through her mother. He'd often wondered how she had come to study beneath Godric, but he'd heard once that Godric and Salazar had debated heavily over Cantrella's placement when she had first arrived at Hogwarts. Apparently, she had qualities that suited her best for the Founder of bravery and courage than any of the others, but Ignotus could always see something dark lurking beneath Cantrella's heavily lidded, smoldering eyes.

"We were just discussing the finer points of Master Godric's reflections yesterday," she said more pleasantly than usual, though there was still a sharp expression in her haughty features. "Does not the Caecus Curse seem difficult? Master Godric suggested that it takes great presence of mind to cast it properly."

"_I_ don't expect to find it difficult, though I can't imagine we would be practicing it today." Perseus Weasley frowned. "Master Godric has yet to teach us the counter-curse, after all."

"Perhaps he's expecting one of us to use the curse against him so he can teach us the counter-curse in practice," suggested Elva.

And without any warning whatsoever, Ignotus's stomach began to writhe and twist, while his friends continued their light banter over which curses, hexes, and jinxes they would be applying themselves to this morning. He had a sudden desire to bolt back to the tower and not attend the practical at all. It was an odd sensation. A week earlier, he had been only too eager to prove himself and he always loved to spar against his master. Bile tickled the back of his throat unpleasantly and he slumped against the wall, desperate to calm his nerves.

The simple truth of the matter was, that he didn't _want_ to fight today. That was all there was to it. And he'd never had the urge to avoid a duel with his incredible Founder.

His closest friend, Ross Faintree, suddenly touched his shoulder. When Ignotus glanced up, he discovered Ross looked more than just concerned – there was true worry and fear in his clear brown eyes.

He whispered rather urgently, "Ignotus, indeed, you have not been yourself." Then, before Ignotus could interrupt, he went on in a quiet rush, possibly hoping no one would overhear. "I can understand why, truly I can, but we are all gravely worried for you. Are you all right?"

But despite Ross's attempts to keep his voice low, the cheerful chatter around them ceased almost instantly and Ignotus felt sweat clamming in the creases of his palms. He couldn't bear them to all stare at him and talk behind his back. Anger rose in him like fire; he suddenly despised his best friend for speaking at all.

And then, a moment later, before he could lose his temper, he realized his classmates had fallen silent – not because of his depression – but because Godric was approaching.

He immediately wondered if he was overly paranoid, and as quick as his anger had swept through him, so did the emotion of shame for his thoughts regarding Ross. Ross had always been at his side ever since their entrance to Hogwarts, and would never have turned his back on Ignotus. And yet, he had felt the poison of hatred just because Ross had been concerned for his well-being. Perhaps he was going mad, as Cadmus seemed to be. That thought was as bad as all the rest.

Godric did not notice this awkward exchange or Ignotus's pale expression, however. He merely smiled with enthusiasm as he approached his students and unlocked the classroom door with his wand. And ushering them inside, he said, "Today, as promised, we will be dueling. I will be taking turns to partner with each of you to determine where your skill level is at present; how much you've learned and applied the last few weeks. Keep in mind yesterday's lecture as you fight me! Always fight fairly and with honor, but remember that your enemy may not – and often _will not_ – be fighting the same way. You must always have tricks up your sleeve to combat those who will show you no mercy. Now, line up against the east wall, please. I will call you forward one by one."

Ignotus slumped into place between Ross and Perseus and resumed his worrying as Godric swept the desks away to the corners of the room. He would not have time to apologize to his best mate until after the lecture, and that seemed like an eternity away.

And in the meantime, he still didn't want to fight. His love for Godric's teaching and incredible skill wasn't enough to make him want to raise his wand. He knew it was a reaction to his father's death: a defense mechanism in which he was curling up within himself to avoid confrontation. His father, and likely his mother, would be ashamed of him for such a reaction to a natural part of life. Ignotus gritted his teeth tightly to stop some of the pain inside of him.

But the real distraction came when Godric called Elva to the front. Compared to their Founder, Elva was quite small, elfin, and ethereal in her appearance, but despite her age of just fourteen, she was incredibly talented. Within seconds of the duel's start, she had used four spells against Godric that no one had been expecting. Ansen even had to throw up a protection spell to prevent being hit by one of hers that ricocheted off a wall, and after thirty seconds Godric put an end to the first mock duel.

"Excellent!" he said proudly. "But you must remember, Miss Port, not to use such strong spells except in a last resort. Using them at the beginning is indeed one strategy; it catches your opponent off guard and enables you to possibly overpower him immediately. But if your opponent is a skilled fighter, he will likely retaliate and then your tricks are used, giving you less of a chance to defeat him. Next! Miss Taillebois!"

Elva bowed politely, but there was marked frustration in her expression as she returned to the wall to wait, and Hesperia Taillebois passed her with a smirk, her long golden curls rippling down her back as she stood to her fullest height and tilted her chin back, ready to go against Godric.

And so it went. After Hesperia, Edsel stepped forward and used a little-known jinx that she had only discovered the week before during her private studies – Godric was incredibly impressed that she had learned it so quickly, and that she had even found it at all. Cantrella, on the other hand, surprised everyone by using several strong offensive spells against her Master's attacks, for which she was highly praised.

The final girl to fight Godric was Callisto, who fought longer than all of her dorm mates, and with skill surpassing theirs by far. Ignotus wondered where she had learned to fight so fiercely. Nothing seemed to catch her off guard; she remained perfectly calm but intensely focused. But then, he had always wondered why Callisto's spell work was so advanced. No one really thought about it until they saw her abilities in a practical, but the truth was, she knew more magic than most of them combined. But she was always so quiet and sweet that she never failed to catch Ignotus off his guard when he least expected it. Perhaps she was simply exceptionally talented. Perhaps Godric had been teaching her privately, as he was teaching Ignotus once a week in Defense.

But whatever the secret behind Callisto's mysterious past and abilities, the fact remained that she had fought the best out of all of the girls. Godric, too, seemed most pleased with her abilities, but surprisingly, he did not linger to give additional praise to Callisto as he had the other girls, which Ignotus thought was a bit unfair. She had fought better than anyone so far; she should have received the highest praise. And yet, Callisto herself did not seem perturbed by the fact that Godric had not praised her. She merely returned to her space against the wall with a placid expression.

Ignotus simply could not understand it.

But he did not have time to dwell on it, because the boys were next.

He swallowed as, one by one, his friends stepped forward to duel with Godric. This round was more violent than the girls' session. Spells bounced off the ceiling and floor and one thrown by Perseus went through the narrow window in the corner of the west wall to explode in violent shades of red and orange outside against the gray sky. No less than eight times did someone have to throw up a protection spell to shield those standing against the east wall.

And finally, Godric called Ignotus forward. He was the last of the boys to step up, and he could feel everyone staring at him as he moved to the center of the room. He wondered if they were whispering about him, but there was an odd buzzing in his ears that prevented him from hearing anything else.

His mouth felt dry, as well. Perhaps Godric would realize he didn't want to fight and their duel would last only a few short seconds. He could even stand the constructive criticism at this point if he fought poorly – anything for his mock duel to be over and done. His palms were sweaty again and his wand slipped between his fingers; he tried to grip it more tightly as he fell into stance and raised it to begin.

Godric waited for what seemed an eternity; then, without warning, threw a spell nonverbally, almost catching Ignotus off guard.

And instantly, everything Ignotus had been feeling the past week exploded. The anger, the hurt, the pain, the frustration and humiliation, the sadness, and the grief – it all burst from him violently. He was hardly conscious of fighting; bright blinding spells went off around him and he was thinking so quickly that, later in the day, he could not recall which spells he himself had used against Godric or which spells Godric had sent at him. Nor could he remember how long he dueled his Founder. All he remembered was the sheer weight of every emotion within him finally channeling through his veins to his fingertips, and from there, through the end of the wand. All heading directly towards the man he admired so deeply, whom he would have done anything for.

And then, as instantaneously as the explosion within him had taken place, just as quickly did Godric end it.

Ignotus could only remember the feeling of shock that brought him back to his senses when he found his wand flying from his hand and clattering into the wall. He had lunged for it at the last second, but was unable to snatch it back, and only when he stumbled and caught his balance did he realize that Godric had disarmed him on purpose to end their duel.

Taking several steadying breaths, stunned at how he had just acted, Ignotus stole a glance at the other students. To his horror, they were staring at him in shock. Humiliated, he diverted his eyes. The only student who was not staring as though he were mad was Callisto; she seemed more interested rather than upset.

"Quite impressive," Godric murmured.

Ignotus realized his Founder had approached him and was handing his wand back. He slowly reached forward and took it, wishing his emotions hadn't gotten the better of him and that he hadn't fought like a madman. His classmates were clearly terrified and furious with him for being so forward as to fight with insanity against their noble teacher. He wondered how many times this day he would feel the sickening emotion of shame.

"Please forgive me," Ignotus whispered, putting his wand within his pocket and bowing his head. "I did not fight with fairness as you requested, sir."

To his further surprise, Godric _laughed_. The sound startled Ignotus as much as his classmates' expressions had.

"But you fought _excellently_!" he said, his voice warm. Then, turning to the others, he added genially, "Class dismissed! And do not forget that we have our first round table discussion in the Great Hall after dinner today. I shall see you all then."

Ignotus stood silently as everyone filed past him and left the room. Godric did not move, either. And when the door at last shut, leaving them alone, Ignotus burst into an incoherent stammering of apology, begging his Master yet again to forgive him for fighting the way he had.

Godric held up a hand. "Ignotus, cease. Apologies are unnecessary. Bottling emotion is the worst possible thing to do after a tragedy, and that is exactly what you had done. By fighting me you allowed the emotion to channel through an escape hatch! Sometimes in battle that is good – it catches the enemy off guard, like using your trump spells at the start would do. But on the other hand, it also has negative effects. It can cause you to become so blinded that you forget who you are. You forget to think properly. You become a beast full of rage, hell-bent on destroying everything. I instruct you to remember that in the future. Always keep your wits about you. Emotions are important and define who we are, but when they are out of control they can become harmful instead of being an asset."

Ignotus nodded, still thoroughly embarrassed. "I understand. I will do better, Master Godric. I promise. I didn't mean to –"

Godric opened the door for him. "I know you didn't mean to, and I know you will continue to improve," he said. "And you are doing much better than Cadmus at handling your father's death, I hear."

A new worry filled Ignotus – one that had been festering beneath the surface like his pain and grief had. "I don't understand Cadmus," he admitted sadly. "He isn't the brother I remember. I half-wondered if he is going mad. Yesterday…" He bit his tongue before he decided to continue. "Yesterday, he seemed almost insane, sir."

"Death changes a person's perspective and alters everything. No one who has experienced it remains the same as they were before. But it is how we handle the pain that defines what we become next."

"He seems so lost, so upset…"

"I'm sure it will pass."

"Yes, sir." Ignotus sighed as they headed down a flight of stairs.

Perhaps Godric realized how upset his student was, because he said soberly, "I should warn you that Salazar selected a rather delicate subject for the round table discussion this evening. You and your brothers may be angry for it."

Ignotus felt his insides tighten, and he swallowed. "Oh."

"If you feel the need to leave the Great Hall, I will understand. And I will make sure no one speaks ill of you if that is the case."

Godric gave him a final smile and turned down a hidden passage behind a tapestry, leaving Ignotus bewildered and worried in the main corridor. But despite his bewilderment, he was determined that, whatever the subject Salazar had chosen, he would not, under any circumstance, leave the Great Hall and risk being ridiculed.

oOo

"It was as though you had gone _mad_," Ross hissed, grabbing a piece of bread from the bowl in front of Ignotus. "Throwing spells no one had even heard of! I don't even think you knew what you were doing! You nearly caught Master Godric off guard _twice_!"

"I know I saw him stumble once," Rowe added, narrowing his eyes on Ignotus.

Ignotus swallowed and kept his own eyes diverted. He deserved this censure, and he knew it. "I apologized to him, I assure you. Several times."

Gaderian sounded annoyed, too. "And you could definitely tell from his eyes that he wasn't expecting you to cast the Rumerio Curse. Of _all_ things! I've only even read about it in theory!"

"Where did you _learn_ such spells?" Rowe snapped. "You were using magic far beyond what we have studied thus far!"

Ignotus sighed and picked at his bread. He did not want to admit that he had been studying advanced Defense spells for the last year in great detail, under Godric's insistence and guidance. They were all angry with him for the way he had acted against Godric, but there was little to be done other than apologize repeatedly. He should have had better control over his emotions, just as Godric had said. His classmates had a high respect for their Founder and Ignotus did not blame them for their irritation at his actions. Had he witnessed someone fighting Godric the way he had been fighting, he would have been furious, too.

Callisto's voice suddenly broke the tide of anger. "Master Godric thought he did quite well." The boys instantly stopped complaining and gaped at her. Satisfied that she had captured their attention, she added, "He was impressed with the level of seriousness and effort Ignotus put into the lesson."

Ignotus also turned to stare at her. He had assumed her kindness the week prior was real, but he had not expected her to stand up for him now. Especially when she had done so well in her own duel against Godric.

Perseus looked thunderstruck. "How do you know?" he sputtered.

Callisto arched an eyebrow. "I heard him telling Master Salazar as I came into the Great Hall, but moment ago."

"Maybe we should act like madmen next time," Ansen grumbled. "I thought he was doing it because he was distraught about his father, and all along he was acting that way to get high marks."

Ignotus nearly had his wand out and was on his feet before Ross grabbed his shoulder and wrist, forcing his fingers away from the piece of wood beneath his tunic.

"Am I not distraught! I'm just upset, that's all! There's a difference!" he snarled, trying to break free of Ross's grip. "And I certainly didn't fight that way to get good marks!"

Ansen paled slightly at the outburst, but to his credit he did not shrink away. Instead, he said coldly, "Then forgive me. We're simply worried about you; you aren't yourself. Do not take your anger out on your friends, Ignotus."

Callisto alone seemed to remain calm throughout this outburst. "Of course he isn't himself, and he's not taking it out on anyone deliberately." She sat down beside Ignotus and reached forward to help herself to some of the wild duck in a platter in the center of the table. "None of us would be the same after something so horrible. But it will pass."

The words rang oddly in Ignotus's ears. It was just what Godric had said only fifteen minutes prior.

_It will pass_.

But when?

The others fell silent and it was several moments before Rowe finally suggested, in a tentative voice, "I wonder what our round table discussion will be about today? Master Godric did not even give us a hint."

Ignotus looked hopelessly at the pieces of shredded bread on his plate. He was suddenly no longer hungry, or perhaps he had not been hungry to start with. "He told me that my brothers and I would likely not enjoy the discussion topic. But he didn't tell me what it was."

Perseus's eyes glinted and he nodded importantly. "Battle, perhaps. Especially as we've been practicing new techniques with Master Godric."

The others agreed that this would make sense; Ignotus, however, felt they were wrong. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to decide what else the topic could be. The Founders always selected broad topics for each of the four round table discussions that took place throughout the year, but he couldn't pinpoint what today's topic would be about, unless it was about grief or fear.

As people finished eating and the chatter began, the pewter plates and goblets disappeared from the tables and the Founders rose from the table at the front of the hall. Instinctively, as students noticed their masters and mistresses approaching, they stood up and stepped away from their own house tables and benches, which began to rearrange themselves into a semi-circle in the center of the huge room. As soon as everything was in order, the students went forward to sit at their respective tables again. They were now facing everyone else.

Godric began, beaming at all of the students. "I hope everyone has been well-fed, but not full of sleep yet! As you all know, our round-table discussions can last for some time, and we expect everyone to participate. Tonight's topic has been chosen by Master Salazar, so I shall politely step aside, and let him inform you what we shall be discussing."

With that, Godric stepped back, gesturing for Salazar Slytherin to step forward. The oldest Founder did so, his robes sweeping the floor as he strode into the center of the semi-circle of tables. With one preemptory glance at the students, he said, "As always, we will have four round-table discussions throughout the year. Tonight, the topic I have chosen for our first debate is one that is ever-present in our lives; an entity which we must all come to respect and expect. That entity is as certain as time, the seasons, the ebb and flow of the tides. Tonight, we shall discuss… Death."

Ignotus felt as though he had swallowed something wriggly. He glanced nervously towards the table containing the students of Rowena Ravenclaw; Cadmus had clenched his fists tightly on the rough wood and his scowl had become incredibly pronounced. At the table full of Slytherin's students however, Antioch looked expressionless.

"So," Salazar continued, ignoring the silence. "How do you feel about Death? What is Death, exactly? Is it a being, capable of thought and design? Or is it simply one of the governing entities of the universe, like the seasons and time?"

The students shifted slightly, each glancing at their neighbors to see who would begin the discussion. Finally, a student of Helga Hufflepuff, Fairfax Abbott, said, "I believe that Death is a natural part of life, Master Salazar. It is, essentially, the opposite of birth and life; the end of both – inevitable and, as you say, expected."

Salazar glanced coolly at Fairfax. "And how do you _feel_ about death, Mr. Abbott?"

Fairfax took a deep breath, pale beneath Salazar's sharp, cold gaze. Trying to keep his voice steady, he said, "As Death is a natural part of life, I will simply accept it. I may not like it, or be expecting it when it does happen. But it will happen, and when it does, I will handle it accordingly. What else can I do?"

"What, indeed?" Salazar murmured.

A Ravenclaw named Pearce Merewether spoke up. "Death will happen, yes. A natural part of life, as Abbott has explained. But this is just the definition of Death as mere humans understand it. Is there not more to Death than the end of Life? What happens when you die? Is that the end of everything? Do you simply revert to nothing, to be forgotten forever?"

Udela Chartes, also sitting at the Ravenclaw table, said, "An interesting concept, Pearce. When you die, you suddenly are no more. Existence vanishes, you become inert matter returned to the earth, and you become a nameless, forgotten human just as thousands before you have become nameless and forgotten."

Ignotus felt utterly sick. Forgotten and nameless – would that be what would happen to his father? Would the name of Corvus Peverell vanish forever? Was that the Fate that awaited all of them? To be forgotten?

Rowena Ravenclaw floated forward gracefully to face her students and broke Ignotus's thoughts. "Nameless and forgotten, Udela? A sad thought, is it not? Is that what you would wish to happen to you?" she asked placidly.

Udela shrugged one shoulder without care. "No, Mistress. But it returns to Fairfax's concept that Death is a natural, inevitable part of life that we must accept. So if, one day, my death erases my name from history, there will be nothing I could do about it then." A sarcastic smile twisted the girl's lips. "Once dead, you no longer exist."

"Or did you ever exist to begin with?" Druella Black, from the table of Slytherin's students, sneered. "Do any of us exist? Or are we pawns of the Universe?"

"Of course we exist," snapped Udela, scowling at her cousin. "If we didn't exist, then this discussion, this castle, the world itself, would be a void. There would be nothing."

Salazar cleared his throat and scowled at Druella. "This is not a discussion on existence, Miss Black. This is a discussion on Death. So, Miss Chartes, you believe that once dead, you cease to exist completely – that you become a forgotten and nameless pile of bones. I believe there are those here who would object to your suggestion."

Rosalind Willoughby, a student beneath Mistress Helga, looked particularly horrified and distraught at the thought the Ravenclaw students had presented. With Salazar's hint for a different opinion, she timidly said, "_I_ do not believe that we vanish completely upon the inevitable experience of Death. Perhaps we pass through a gateway, so to speak, into the Afterlife."

"And what is in the Afterlife?" Helga asked encouragingly, pacing calmly behind Salazar and Rowena, her long hair curling down to her waist in soft, golden waves.

"Heaven, of course." Rosalind swallowed. "I believe in Heaven."

Salazar dryly stated, "A Muggle concept."

Rosalind turned bright pink. She was indeed Muggle-born, and all those in Hogwarts who were from Muggle parentage, though they were few in number, knew that Master Salazar detested their presence. She diverted her eyes, and Ignotus was grateful that Godric quickly stepped in.

"No, Salazar. Heaven and Hell exist in the Wizarding world, too. The lines are gray of course; are humans ever to understand the intricate balance of good and evil? But I do believe as Rosalind does – that there is an Afterlife upon the experience of death. Something new, something uncharted."

Salazar inclined his head politely to Godric, but though he said no more, there was a dark look in his eyes. It was obvious he disliked Rosalind.

"Perhaps Death is a person," suggested Torr de Mortfort, one of Salazar's students, with a snicker. "A being that travels the world seeking the next victims."

"And being Death," Ave Quincy, another of Salazar's students, said eagerly, "he can take on the appearance of a human to confuse humans when he comes. That is how he steals his victims!"

As the students continued to jest over the idea of Death as a personified being (some laughing and some more serious), Ignotus tried to block the discussion from his ears. He didn't want to talk about Death. Godric had been quite right – he wanted to leave the table and return to the Tower, but even that would be useless now, because he would have the thoughts already presented in the round-table discussion racing about his mind. He would never get to sleep. His best bet was to stay at the table and listen until the end, and hope the discussion would take a more cheerful turn. If that were possible, of course. He did not want to be called a coward by the other students if he left. Antioch and Cadmus had not moved, and they would surely be disappointed if he did.

Ten minutes later, Cadmus's voice broke through Ignotus's attempts to block the babble.

"Enough of discussing Death as a being or the concepts of what comes after Death," he said coldly, glaring at the other students. "Death is a part of life, but does it have to be?"

Rowena's brow furrowed slightly. "Please explain yourself, Cadmus."

"Do we really have to die?" Cadmus argued. "Or, are there ways to defeat Death, to escape him? To become immortal, or even to steal what he has already taken?"

Escape Death – that was exactly what Ignotus wanted to do, it seemed. He wasn't scared of dying himself, but he was terrified of losing anyone else now that his father was dead. He felt light-headed with sudden fear; was he really a coward? Only a coward would want to run from Death to escape it.

"Defeating or escaping Death," Salazar said to the students, inviting a change in the discussion. "Your opinions?"

The table of Salazar's students seemed particularly interested in the idea. Ignotus only barely heard parts of the discussion that began to follow Cadmus's suggestion, but it was Antioch's voice that broke through his thoughts next.

"If your wand is stronger than others, you could defeat Death in that respect," he said, always practical and logical.

Cadmus would have none of Antioch's logic, however. "That," he sneered, "will only keep you alive for so long, Antioch. At some point, you will die, whether you have an unstoppable wand or not."

Ignotus glanced up nervously to see Antioch's furious glare towards Cadmus. Before the eldest Peverell brother could retaliate, Maponus Avery said, "To truly defeat Death, you would have to become immortal, Cadmus."

"And to become immortal," Lycoris Malfoy's face twisted into a wicked smile, "you would need to create a Horcrux."

Instantly, the air seemed to crackle with tension. Helga froze in the act of her endless pacing behind Salazar. Rowena's expression became utterly blank, but her body stiffened. Godric's lip pulled back into a snarl as he bared his teeth unintentionally, and most of the students shifted uncomfortably.

Horcruxes were a topic not often discussed within the walls of Hogwarts.

Salazar alone seemed unaffected by the tautness of the air around him. "A Horcrux is indeed one way to conquer Death." He shrugged. "But it is incredibly Dark magic, Mr. Malfoy."

"Death," Godric added dangerously, "would be preferable."

"That depends on the wizard, of course," Salazar replied. He did not turn to look at Godric.

"Only wizards who desire to sink to the extreme depths of darkness and evil create Horcruxes. They are truly horrendous objects, Salazar. Even you know this."

"But they would protect you from dying," Lycoris argued, not the least concerned with showing disrespect by arguing with one of the Founders.

Godric's temper was apparently on edge, and this lack of respect did nothing to help matters. He snarled, "Only if you protected the Horcrux with excruciating effort. A Horcrux is a liability, Mr. Malfoy, not an asset to gaining immortality. Upon splitting your soul via murder, and embedding part of your soul within the object of choice that thus becomes the Horcrux, the object is then vulnerable and, in turn, so is your soul."

Rowena's face remained blank, but she added, "Master Godric is right, Mr. Malfoy. The object is quite vulnerable, as it can be destroyed. And once a Horcrux is destroyed, so is that fragment of your soul. Thus, you become mortal once more. A Philosopher's Stone would be more appropriate, but even that is subject to theft and destruction."

Several students, who had clearly never read books pertaining to the darkest of magic, asked, "How? How do you destroy one?" It was as though they had not even heard Rowena's remark regarding a Philosopher's Stone.

Godric, Rowena, and Helga exchanged dark glances. Rowena had tried to change the subject without success, and there was nothing for it but to answer these new questions. She said slowly, and deliberately, "While it is extremely difficult to destroy a Horcrux, it _can_ be done. Traditional methods will not work. To destroy a Horcrux, you must damage the object and the fragment of soul beyond the means of magical repair."

Students shifted and glanced at each other as they tried to determine what would be considered "beyond magical repair". Ignotus racked his brain, but he could think of no spells that would destroy something so utterly evil. Godric forbade the study of such magic amongst his own students, and supposedly there were few spell books that would even mention a Horcrux in the school's vast library. The Founder of bravery and courage had tried to have those books removed the previous year, but Salazar had insisted they were a necessary part of the library as they contained information on other types of magic, and that they were mostly books on theory anyway.

Noticing that most of the students looked confused and lost, Salazar finally stated in a dry, disappointed voice, "Basilisk venom is one way to destroy a Horcrux."

Sarcastically, Godric snapped, "Ah, yes. You _can_ destroy extremely evil, Dark magic with the fang of an extremely dangerous, Dark creature. It works, of course, but the creation of the basilisk is in itself an incredible deadly endeavor. After all, the ability to control such a creature is limited to those who speak Parseltongue, and there are few wizards and witches with that ability, as you well know, Salazar."

Salazar smiled at his friend. "True. Very true. But there are also other ways. A Horcrux can also be destroyed by the Killing Curse, Godric."

And as if as one, the students sucked in their breath. Like Horcruxes, Unforgivable Curses were also rarely discussed within Hogwarts.

Rowena scowled at Salazar and said, "Fiendfyre can also destroy a Horcrux. Though, that spell is as dangerous as the creation of a basilisk. It can so easily gain life of its own and the caster can quickly lose control if they do not have incredibly strong forbearance of mind."

Lycoris looked triumphant. "So, though a Horcrux _can_ be destroyed, it would be incredibly difficult."

Godric's face twisted furiously, and Salazar, perhaps sensing the rising anger, quickly told his student, "But it is, as Master Godric states, still a liability. It _is _capable of being destroyed and therefore not completely fail proof in gaining mortality. Even Herpo found himself mortal after his Horcrux was destroyed, and he was thus killed in a duel."

Cadmus also looked annoyed, as though the discussion had taken a turn he had not wished. He therefore spoke again, trying to bring the topic back to his ideas.

"Another way to conquer Death, Master Salazar, would be if you had the ability to raise the dead from their graves. To take back the victims Death claimed."

Salazar, irritated that Cadmus was so persistent, coolly said, "There is no spell to raise the dead, Cadmus."

"That we know of. But powerful wizards can create new spells. If you used Reverse Spell Effects, sir –"

"Enough." Godric ended the discussion before Cadmus, who had had a manic glint in his eyes, could continue. "These then, as a group, we can agree on. Death is a natural part of life, as Mr. Abbott expressed at the beginning of the hour. Therefore, we should not desire to go against the grain of nature by trying to defeat or conquer a timeless entity. To go against the grain of the natural is to throw everything out of balance; a dangerous option which could go horribly wrong very quickly and with incredible ease."

Rowena and Helga nodded in agreement; Salazar said nothing.

Godric continued, bitterly, "Horcruxes are the Darkest of all magic, and should not be studied or spoken of by decent wizards and witches. However, each of you must decide for yourselves how you feel about such foul objects." He turned and glared at his comrade. "Salazar, did you have anything additional to add?" he demanded.

"I did not. I believe you have summed up our discussion admirably, Godric."

"In that case," Helga said promptly, "the next discussion will take place after you return from Yule."

Rowena added, "Mistress Helga will decide on the next topic. You are dismissed to your dormitories."

Benches scraped the floor as students rose to leave. Those who trained beneath Salazar Slytherin were still quite engrossed in discussing the idea of conquering Death by way of Horcrux, with Lycoris at the center of the throng. Antioch, however, was silent. He glared at the other members of Slytherin with anger, as though he disapproved of their ideas. Ignotus decided to avoid his brother and headed up the marble staircase quietly, following the other students of Gryffindor, who were furious at the fact that Lycoris Malfoy had deliberately tried to antagonize their teacher.

But Ignotus could think of nothing except hiding from Death, escaping it by becoming invisible to the entity and running away. And he felt like a coward for even thinking such things. Yet, he could not bear the thought of losing any one else he loved. He could face Death when it came for him, but he simply did not want to watch it steal other people away from him.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Challenge

**The Last Enemy**

**Chapter Four - The Challenge**

Godric was not himself for the next few days, though all of his students were perfectly aware of the reason. Their Founder despised any talk of Horcruxes or other Dark subject matter, because he didn't want students to be tempted to turn to evil devices.

Ignotus, too, felt he was not yet himself. The round-table discussion regarding Death had been very difficult; the healing process of losing his father was only just beginning and the topic had not helped matters much. In fact, as far as Ignotus was concerned, all it had really done was drive Antioch and Cadmus further apart. The two older brothers were resolutely refusing to speak to each other because of Cadmus's remarks towards Antioch during the discussion, and Ignotus felt as though none of them were related to each other at the moment.

Of course, Cadmus wasn't speaking to Ignotus, either. It was true that Ignotus had never been as close to Cadmus as he had been to Antioch, but it was still unsettling that his brother wouldn't even speak to him as they passed in their daily routines. From what he understood, however, Cadmus wasn't speaking to hardly anyone, not even members of his own house. It was just as it had been with Antioch the week prior.

Even Cearo had worriedly approached Ignotus before dinner one evening to inquire if he had spoken with Cadmus during the last few days, and he had been disturbed to see unshed tears in her blue eyes when she admitted that his brother had not sought her out for nearly a week. Ignotus wasn't sure which was worse – Cadmus not speaking to him, or Cearo confiding in him.

At least Antioch was speaking if Ignotus saw him, but even his eldest brother was still extremely preoccupied. In Cadmus's case, Ignotus had no idea what his brother was researching, but he did know that Antioch was still studying wandlore. Because, far from _discouraging_ Antioch, Cadmus's remarks on the foolishness of an unbeatable wand had only _fueled_ Antioch's desire to research the subject more thoroughly and design such an object.

Nearly three weeks passed in this tense fashion. Then, slowly, the Founders returned to their usual state of friendliness. The round-table discussion drifted from the minds of most within the castle. Ignotus began to feel less angry and less distraught. The pain of his father's death was becoming a dull ache within his chest instead of all-consuming grief, and it flared only once as the month went on – when Antioch told him that, upon reading his letter, their mother had been overcome with grief and the Peverell steward had been forced to give her a Calming Draught as well as a potion for a dreamless sleep so she could rest. But she had written a return letter as soon as she was able, thanking Antioch for returning alive and bringing Cadmus back alive as well. She expressed the hope of seeing all three of her sons at Yule, and begged them to return home at that time, so she could confirm for herself that they were all in good health.

"_Alive_." Antioch sneered, as he glared at his mother's return letter, which Ignotus had just handed back upon reading. "Cadmus is no more alive than father is. And he believes he can stop Death by researching Reverse Spell Effects."

Wearily, Ignotus said, "_You_ are trying to create a superior wand, Antioch." He shifted the large library book he was holding to his other arm. It was on Defense, though he hadn't been very focused on his studies the last couple of weeks. They didn't seem to be holding his interest, for some reason. But, he wasn't sure what _would_ hold his interest at the moment, and he had therefore not bothered to study anything else.

"That isn't the same." Antioch raked a hand through his wavy black hair and looked irritated. "I want to _kill_ Athol. That is my purpose now. I simply need to avoid Death long enough to complete that task. Cadmus, though… I believe that Cadmus wishes to become immortal."

Startled, Ignotus stammered, "You surely do not believe he would create a Horcrux, do you?"

Antioch laughed humorlessly. "The dense buffoon wouldn't know _how_ to create a Horcrux, little brother."

"Neither would _I_," Ignotus said darkly.

"That is true, but…" Antioch continued to chuckle; for a brief moment, Ignotus felt as though the sound were warm water washing over both of them. "You are entirely different from Cadmus. _You_ would not create a Horcrux because you are honorable and noble – everything Master Godric seeks in his students. That does not mean you _couldn't_ make a Horcrux, if you set your mind to such a task." And, instantly, Antioch's expression hardened and the laughter was gone. "Cadmus will not do it because he does not want to defeat Death just for his own self, but he wants to make alive those who have already died. I admit; the idea is vaguely interesting. But he isn't intelligent enough to pull it off."

"He _was_ selected by Mistress Ravenclaw."

"A mistake." Antioch's lip curled.

Ignotus shifted uncomfortably. Surely the Founders did not make mistakes in Sorting. He had also hoped that the rift between his two brothers would have been resolved by now, but apparently, it had not been. And as he did not wish to irritate Antioch, he changed the course of their conversation.

"How is your research progressing?" he asked, nodding to the tome Antioch was carrying.

"Better than expected. Wandlore is extremely complex, but Master Ollivander has been exceedingly helpful in explaining the details of this branch of magic. As of now, I am still gathering information, but I hope to begin creating the wand itself after Yule." He paused and glanced at the book Ignotus held. "Are you still studying Defense?"

"Yes. But I'm discovering that I already know most of what I'm reading, and I confess… it is quite tedious. Right now the only things helping my skill are our practical studies."

"Then it was lucky you were Sorted to Master Godric; he is the best teacher to practice dueling with. Although Master Salazar may be able to help you as well – he is also an exceptional duelist. Have you thought to ask Master Godric if you can spar against Master Salazar in your spare time?"

"No." Ignotus did not elaborate. In truth, Salazar Slytherin unnerved him – his cool, detached demeanor was so unlike Godric's warm, invigorating personality, Helga's gentle sweetness, or Rowena's placid intelligence. Antioch might be highly devoted to and admiring of his Founder, but Ignotus did not understand the man well. And he was certain that Salazar Slytherin would not be willing to spar with him, though he had no idea why he was so assured of this.

"You should." Antioch gave Ignotus a rare smile. "I think it would benefit you."

"Master Salazar does not know me well, and I would feel awkward approaching him."

"Actually, he thinks very highly of you." Antioch folded his mother's letter and slipped it into an inside pocket of his emerald cloak. "He has been quite impressed at how you have handled our return and father's death. It is Cadmus he has no positive regard for."

"I will consider your suggestion, then."

"A wise idea. Perhaps you should also think of studying another subject as well, via book, since you have already mastered the theories of Defense."

"I'm not sure what will interest me. But I will let you know when I strike upon something."

"Good. I would like you to keep me informed. I wish to see you succeed, Ignotus."

And without further elaboration, he turned and left, heading once more for the library.

Ignotus sighed. Despite Antioch's approval, and despite his suggestion to study something other than Defense, he had no idea what he should like to delve into next. Certainly not Potions – that was an art which both of his brothers excelled at, but he did not. Transfiguration he had mastered by his fourth year and the practice of Charms was too simple. He had never studied Divinitation, and by his second year he had completed the requirements for Astronomy and Ancient History.

He glanced at the book he was holding; a thick volume in peeling red leather titled _Defensive Magicke for Battle and Anti-Curses Against Evile_. Everything between the two covers Master Godric had already gone over in their lectures. It was practically useless to continue pursuing the pages.

He decided he would return it to the library later in the day, however – so that Antioch would not believe he was following him.

oOo

When Ignotus arrived at dinner that evening, something was in the air. For starters, the Founders were speaking intently at their own table, deep in discussion. This was unusual; the four masters and mistresses of the school discussed future lessons within the privacy of their quarters, and not before the student body in the Great Hall.

As Ignotus sat down and continued to look curiously at the head table, Ross leaned over and whispered, "Something is afoot. The Founders have been meeting all afternoon. I hear from the students of Mistress Helga that she let it slip that we shall have a surprise tonight."

"It must be important," Perseus said, a gleam in his eyes.

The others nodded in agreement. Ignotus wondered what the surprise could be, but to everyone's disappointment, dinner came first. All across the hall, students were eating much faster than usual, and instead of the loud talk there were quiet hissing whispers back and forth. Apparently, Mistress Helga's students had passed the information they had gleaned onto all of the other houses, and everyone was debating what was going to happen.

Finally, once everyone had finished, Mistress Rowena rose gracefully from her seat and smiled at the Great Hall. The whispering ceased immediately.

With a small, bemused smile and a quick glance at Mistress Helga, she said, "I see you are all expecting this. Very well, to the point. The Founders have decided to put forth a challenge amongst the students this winter. You will all have your regular lessons and studies as usual, but our challenge is for each of you to delve into a topic of academics that you are not familiar with, and one that each individual person wishes to delve deeper into. You may choose to research a topic individually, or with a small group, in your spare time."

Master Salazar stood from his seat and said, "Each of you may select from any magical topic you desire, and preferably something that interests you. However, you must each present the extra-curricular topic of choice to your Founder, who will decide if it is appropriate for your age and level of understanding. If both student and Founder agree, you will be asked to research and present the topic at the end of the year before all four Founders."

"This means," Master Godric continued, "that you may be asked to write an essay, prepare a demonstration, create an object, or perform spells. Everyone will present their findings in the spring. You will have ample time to work on your projects, and we are here to assist you should you have any difficulties."

"Precisely one week from today," Mistress Helga beamed, "we will meet with each of you to learn which topic you have decided upon. If you wish to work in a group, groups should be no larger than three students. If you wish to work alone, that is also permissible and understandable. We wish to credit the idea to Antioch Peverell – his desire to study wandlore has piqued our interest. Though he excels at many things, just as each of you excels at many things, this is a subject that has interested him for further, focused study. Therefore, begin to consider a topic you wish to learn more of. Be prepared to meet with your Founder a week from today."

There was a burst of excited applause; many students in the hall seemed thrilled at the chance to explore uncharted fields of magic. Across the room,Antioch looked slightly taken aback that his drive to learn wandlore had sparked such a wave of interest. The students of Salazar Slytherin were shaking his shoulders and laughing with excitement at his genius.

Ignotus could tell that his own friends were eager and ready to begin their projects immediately, even though they weren't finished with dessert yet. Perseus was already going on about studying unusual Defense spells. Elva claimed that such an idea was silly; Godric would teach them those any way, and declared that she was more interested in studying about the strange magical creatures that dwelled in Asia Minor. Ansen was trying to talk Rowe and Hesperia into joining him in studying Patronuses, while Gaderian insisted they should all go to the library that very evening and do exhaustive research before ultimately deciding which topics would be most beneficial.

As the talk continued, Ross turned and smiled at Ignotus. "It sounds as though it will be immense fun. Do you not think so?"

Ignotus shrugged hopelessly. "For others, perhaps. But I've no idea what I wish to study, other than the subjects I'm already engaged in."

His friend snorted. "It will do you good to study other things. You know Defense too well. It's high time you try something different."

"And what will _you_ research?" Ignotus asked sardonically.

Ross laughed. "Easy, Ignotus. You needn't get surly with me, you know. I was only trying to give you some friendly advice!" He paused for a brief moment, and then said thoughtfully, "I believe I shall go to the library, as Gaderian suggests. Not to do the sort of relentless research he intends to do," he rolled his eyes, "but more than the others will. There are many areas of magic I am not familiar with." And at this, he looked highly frustrated.

His own temper subsiding, Ignotus quietly said, "That is expected. You did not have the upbringing many of us had, after all."

Ross shook his head in disgust. "No. I did not. Which is a hindrance, Ignotus. If only you knew how I _wished_ I had lived a childhood like yours."

"Your childhood was incredibly interesting. Do not think otherwise."

"Being the son of a Muggle is not interesting; it is _degrading_. I wonder that my father didn't drown me in the river when he discovered I was completely unlike anything he knew."

Ignotus sighed. He knew Ross had been born a Muggle – everyone did. His best friend was one of the very few Muggle-borns in the school, and he had been located by Master Godric when he was ten years old. Godric Gryffindor had seen the young wizard in a field, levitating a stick, and he had stopped to investigate. Ross's parents had been more than willing to let Godric take him, claiming they had never understood their second son, and Ross had not seen them, or his brothers and sisters since. It was also common knowledge to his closest friends that Ross himself had no desire to return to his village or his family. Godric had arranged for his living since, with a respectable wizarding family that did not oppose Ross's blood ties. But the main problem was, most purebloods did oppose Muggle-borns – especially those admitted into Hogwarts, let alone being members of their communities. Some did not, of course. Ignotus, for one, could have cared less about the whole issue, and the Couldfield family did not, or they wouldn't have taken Ross in as a surrogate son. But Cadmus disapproved of Muggle-borns completely and had often chastised Ignotus's choice in closest friend, and Antioch also generally frowned upon Muggle-borns, though he was more understanding than the middle Peverell brother.

Ross was fully aware of the animosity he was expected to receive, from many people within Hogwarts _and_ even more beyond its walls, for there was no overcoming his background.

Due to his friend's bitterness and feelings regarding the subject of his birth, Ignotus knew better than to argue. Instead, he murmured, "Perhaps I will accompany you to the library."

"Tomorrow morning, then? After first lesson?"

Ignotus stood up and fastened his cloak over his shoulders. "I only hope I can find something I would enjoy studying," he admitted.

As they left the hall and started up the marble staircase, Ross mused, "Perhaps I should research magical creatures or magical history. Both are topics I could…"

But Ignotus wasn't paying his friend much attention, because he wasn't interested in such areas of study. Having grown up within the walls of the powerful Peverell fortress, he knew more about magic than even most pureblood children did before attending Hogwarts.

_But not everything_, a small voice chided him from the back of his mind, while Ross continued in his one-sided debate over various ideas. _You were oblivious to Death. And that is a specific magic in its own right._

Suddenly angry, Ignotus tried to ignore the thought. He had been doing well the past few weeks, moving forward rather than wallowing in pity and pain. He did not want to continue to be poisoned by such depressing ideas.

Ross gave the password to Nerthus, hardly aware that Ignotus had not spoken two words since they had started up the marble staircase. But when they entered the common room, they found that someone had left the Great Hall before they had.

Callisto Stewart was sitting at her loom, her brow puckered in thought as she directed the shuttle back and forth. She had put a Silencing Charm on the entire apparatus, to prevent it from making excessive noise and distracting the other Gryffindor students while they were all in the common room. She had been weaving since she first came to school; according to the other girls, Callisto had told them only one gem of information regarding her past: her mother had been an accomplished witch who had woven magical battle garments for wizards, to protect them from adverse spells. Callisto had been studying the same art since before she came to Hogwarts, albeit on her own. Apparently, Helga Hufflepuff had given her _some_ direction once she entered official study, but the kind-hearted Founder had also explained that she had not practiced such an art herself, and that Callisto would remain on her own for the most part.

Still, even without actual tutelage, Callisto's work was excellent. Ignotus had no idea if the cloaks and tunics she wove were able to protect their wearers, but the few pieces she had completed (and she had unraveled many, as they apparently had not met her high standards) had been beautiful. But he had no idea what she had done with them once finishing. The girls stated they had never seen the completed garments in their dormitories, so they believed Callisto must have given the clothing away, though not to anyone in the castle itself.

Ross and Ignotus stopped beside her, and she finally glanced up, though she seemed surprised to see them, as though she had not heard them enter the common room.

"Did you attend dinner, Miss Stewart?" Ross asked politely.

Callisto smiled, but Ignotus noticed that it seemed a weary smile. "I did. Thank you, Ross."

Trying to sound as though he were merely interested in the conversation and not thrilled that her voice was sending chills down his arms, Ignotus asked, "And have you decided on a topic of study for the challenge?"

She shook her head and turned to gaze at the pattern of dark red and black in the fabric she was creating. "I think I would like to study more about healing spells, but I have not completely decided, yet."

"But you are incredible at Defense!" Ignotus blurted, before thinking.

Callisto's expression grew sad and bittersweet. "As are you, Ignotus. But Defense will not always serve. It is important to know other magical arts, as well. What of you? What will you research? Are the two of you working together?"

"No," Ross said. "I believe I will research magical history. There is much I do not know, and much I _should_ know."

"You are too hard on yourself," Callisto said quietly. "There _are_ those of us who do _not_ despise you for where you came from, you know."

"But there are those who do."

Afraid that Ross might lose his temper, Ignotus said quickly, "And I have no idea what I will study, yet."

Callisto tilted her head and smiled at him shrewdly. "Not Defense, then?"

He smiled slightly. "No. I'm afraid that I, too, need to learn something different from Defense and Charms and Transfiguration."

And suddenly, without warning, the portrait hole burst open and the other students of Godric Gryffindor spilled into the common room, all laughing and excitedly discussing the challenge and the wide array of topics they could study. For a brief second, Ignotus wished that he, Callisto, and his best friend could have been invisible when this happened. Their conversation had been interesting and cozy, and he wished they had not been interrupted. Most unfortunately, the other students noticed them from the moment they came into the room, and they began to include them in the boisterous discussion.

"Callisto, aren't you excited?" Cantrella gushed, her eyes wide with anticipation. "I believe _I_ will study lesser known poisons. Master Salazar has gone over a few with us in our advanced class, but I wish to learn more about counteracting them…"

Callisto had no time to answer, however – for everyone was talking over each other, even before Cantrella had finished.

"I wish to study about unusual Charms!"

"What about how the movements of the heavens affect our daily lives?"

"I'm still going to research multiple topics in the library before I make a final decision."

"I've always wanted to learn about dragons! I wish I could have one. Is it true that Vespera Black has an Icelandic Indigo, Cantrella?" Rowe asked eagerly.

"Of course it's true, everyone knows _that_," Cantrella said loftily. "My Aunt has had Hades since he hatched from an egg! He guards her castle in the northwest."

"I've decided to study Muggles," Perseus announced importantly. "We know very little about them, and I would like to learn more. How are we to understand them if we do not try? Ross, will you assist me?"

The babble was still going on, so no one except Ignotus and Castillo noticed how Ross tensed. He managed to nod once, and said, "If you desire my assistance, I shall give it."

"It would be most beneficial. Elva and Ansen are going to give me some insight into the subject, as well."

Perseus turned to find Elva, and Ross muttered, "I'm going to bed. I will see you both tomorrow."

Castillo sighed, nodded, and turned back to her work, though she did not seem to be paying it much attention.

"Have you decided what you will study?" Gaderian Longbottom asked Ignotus, forcing him to tear his eyes from Callisto.

"I do not know yet," he admitted.

"Then perhaps you should accompany me to the library tomorrow morning."

Feeling that this was probably the best option, though he wasn't sure he could deal with hours of Gaderian's debating one topic versus another, Ignotus nodded wearily. "I will. Thank you."

oOo

The library was dark and cold, and it did not help that the day was icy outside. Had it been sunny, a small amount of light would have at least been able to penetrate the mullioned windows. Ignotus drew his cloak about his body tightly, wondering why he had agreed to come with Gaderian in the first place. Ross had also agreed to go along, which was some relief, but the moment they entered the vast, quiet chamber Ignotus's best friend had effectively disappeared through the endless shelves in search of history books.

Either that, or he was trying to escape Gaderian – because Gaderian was, just as Ignotus had predicted, debating everything from dangerous magical creatures to quirky charms, all under his breath, and sending book after book to a table he had staked claim on the moment he had entered the library. Ignotus followed behind his friend, disinterested in most of the titles he bothered to glance at. He vaguely wondered how many books Gaderian had selected thus far, and if the table would be buried under a mound of leather volumes when they finally returned to it eight months later.

Then, deciding he needed to at least put some effort into the task his Founders had set, and that he also needed to stop acting so surly, Ignotus managed to rouse himself to examine the spines of the books more closely. Unfortunately, they were in a section on Divination – a subject he cared nothing for.

Gaderian, on the other hand, had pulled one of these dusty books from its resting place, and was muttering quietly to himself, wondering if one could indeed determine the future by strange signs and symbols.

Ignotus rolled his eyes, skirted behind him, and realized there was an opening halfway down the aisle they were in. Determined to escape the fortune telling books, he slipped through the opening in the shelves and found himself on another long, dark aisle.

"_Lumos_," he muttered.

The end of his wand sparkled brilliantly and he held it up to the titles, tired of squinting. But even so, these told him nothing – most of the titles on this shelf were in Old Norse, and he couldn't read a word of it. Annoyed, Ignotus made his way down the aisle until he came to another junction, and he immediately ducked further into the recesses of the huge library. He bypassed the next four aisles completely, before slipping into a small alcove of books, half-hidden in the maze of twisted, narrow spaces.

Ignotus held his wand up to the titles, wondering what could possibly be in such a small little cove that was likely completely unknown to most students. To his surprise, most of the titles here seemed to be on the topic of Invisibility, but some did not. Curious, he pulled one of them down. _The Art of Stealthe_, for instance, did not seem to be about Invisibility in the least, and he wondered if such a book could assist him in his studies of Defense. Surely this was a book about battle techniques. Ignotus flipped it open, but to his surprise, there were no words on the pages. They were all blank, tan-colored sheets of parchment.

Frustrated, he jabbed his wand at the page and mentally cast the spell for revealing hidden words. And instantly, the book glowed a soft red that faded back into the darkness, and the spell brought the blank ink to the surface. Curious, he scanned through several of the pages with his wand held over them, eager for the book to tell him something about defeating opponents. But to his surprise, the words he read first had an ill effect on him.

"…_by the hidden art of Invisibility, to render one's self undetectable by sight, thus enabling a surprise attack upon thy opponent…_"

Ignotus stiffened. That was not an honorable attack. He glanced at the next page, but the words were not much better.

"…_become visible at the last moment by the counter-spell. This element of surprise gives the upper hand to the one who has been previously Invisible…_"

He slammed the book shut and had thrust it unceremoniously back on the shelf. He would not stoop to such tactics.

But just as he turned to leave the strange cove, a sudden thought occurred to him.

During their last duel against Godric, his Founder had clearly stated that some wizards and witches did not use honorable attacks or strategy, and that even if your intentions were noble, you sometimes had to reconfigure your own battle plan to fight effectively. He paused and glanced over his shoulder. Perhaps this book _would_ be of use. Some wizards would do anything to win a battle – Athol had proved that by claiming a superior wand, and Antioch was counteracting by creating a better one. The idea of becoming Invisible in a battle, free to move about without detection, was an interesting thought, really. Besides, he had never ventured this far into the library before, and he had never known this little alcove existed at all. It was worth a second look, perhaps.

And before he quite realized it, Ignotus was scanning the other titles and pulling more books down. He sat in the alcove for a long time; glancing through the tomes and selecting those he felt were worth reviewing further. _This_ was something he could apply to his exhaustive Defense lessons – just as Callisto had decided that learning Healing Spells could assist her further. True; becoming Invisible was sneaky and cunning…but it was not evil like Horcruxes or Curses were, surely.

It was Ross who discovered him nearly two hours later. The Muggle-born wizard came around the corner with his wand lit, and stared at Ignotus in surprise. He had clearly not been expecting to find his friend, thus: cross-legged on the floor amidst a pile of books, examining one titled, _Hidden from Sighte_.

"What, in the name of Merlin's sagging _arse_, are you _doing_?"

Ignotus looked up, startled to see his best friend's wary expression. He smiled. "I stumbled across this section earlier, and I think I shall research the subject of Invisibility for my challenge. There's some interesting information here that I know little about, or…nothing about, in some cases. It's quite intriguing!"

"Are you out of your senses? What use is Invisibility? You can't possibly use such tactics in battle – that would be dishonorable! And you know it, Ignotus."

"Would it?" Ignotus rose, waved his wands at the books he wanted, and sent them into a neat pile. The others he sent back to the shelves around him. "Strategy is a critical part of Defense. I think this will be useful."

"It doesn't sound useful, it sounds manipulative and sneaky. We can all become invisible. Everyone knows how to perform a Disillusionment Charm – even_Muggle-borns_."

Ignotus levitated the books he wished to keep and they started back to the front of the library, weaving their way through the labyrinth of aisle and shelves. "A Disillusionment Charm is easy enough, but there are flaws to the spell. I wonder if there is a way to become _completely_ and _utterly_ undetectable? I'll have to research it further. That's why I've selected Invisibility as my topic of study."

"You would be wise to study something more beneficial, such as Transfiguration!"

"I heard Ranulf of Ravenclaw is studying Animagi; what would be the point of studying anything else? I can already perform high-level human Transfiguration, and I see little sense in becoming an animal in a fight. Animals are subject to death just as humans are. In fact, I would imagine that you would lose some of your powers by transforming into an animal, unless you became something like a wasp or an ant and could avoid detection more so than a larger animal would –"

"You keep talking as though you will be in a fight tomorrow!" Ross cut Ignotus off, looking highly irritated. "You likely will not be involved in a fight until well after you leave Hogwarts, if even then!"

"We live in a time of constant warfare, as you well know. Wizards versus wizards, fighting over everything from land to Muggle detection. I wish to be prepared."

They stopped at the table Gaderian was seated at. Ross glared at his best friend, but Ignotus merely smiled back, his expression sheepish. Gaderian glanced up between the stacks of books tottering about him, and frowned.

"Have you found something interesting?"

"Invisibility."

"You are studying Invisibility?" Gaderian asked, curious.

"Yes."

"I think that is an unusual choice, but very interesting. I am still researching."

"I think it's a stupid choice. He can already perform a Disillusionment Charm – what more is there?"

"There is a wealth of information here," Ignotus insisted. "I think I will be surprised to learn how much there is."

"So will you write a report?"

"I do not know yet. I'll ask Master Godric his opinion."

Ross shook his head. "Come on, then. I've already sent my books back to the common room so I wouldn't have to carry them."

They left Gaderian pawing through his hundreds of topics, and headed back through the corridors of the castle to their tower. But Ross did not seem intent on talking, and he continued to scowl at Ignotus's floating pile of Invisibility books, as though they had insulted him in some way.

However, as they rounded a corner to a staircase, they passed Antioch, who was walking with Serpentina Slytherin. She stiffened as Ross and Ignotus inclined their heads towards her, and Ross murmured that he would see Ignotus later before he hurried on, clearly intent on avoiding Salazar's daughter. She was one who clearly opposed his being in the castle at all, and her opinions of Muggle-borns were no secret to anyone within Hogwarts.

Antioch did not pay Ross's retreat much attention, but instead glanced at the titles of his brother's books. "Invisibility? An unusual topic, Ignotus. How did you light upon it?"

"By mere accident. But I think it will be useful for Defense."

"I have never much thought about it," Antioch admitted thoughtfully.

"Neither have I."

Serpentina's lips twisted into a thin smile. "And why would you wish to become invisible, Ignotus? Answer honestly."

He was surprised by this question, but Serpentina was known for her bluntness. After a moment, he stammered, "Sometimes I just wish I could be invisible. Alone. Without anyone to bother me if I did not desire company."

"Ah. For what purpose?"

Ignotus shifted uncomfortably. Just as he had never been close to Cearo, Antioch's lover was also difficult to be around. Serpentina had her father's cunning and sly personality, and she was reported to be one of the most powerful witches in the country. He could never tell what she was thinking – no one could. Cearo, at least, was usually incredibly easy to read. But Serpentina reminded Ignotus of staring into the jeweled eyes of a poisonous snake…a blank void that could strike at any second and without warning. He was certain that _she_ was the exact type of person who would use any means in battle to destroy an opponent.

Not wishing to give her anything to work with, he countered, "Do _you_ not sometimes wish to be alone?"

Immediately, her smile grew slightly warmer. "Forgive me, Ignotus. I was simply curious as to your motives for studying such an unusual subject. I thought perhaps you were attempting to hide from something."

"I hide from nothing," he said sharply, his chin lifting a fraction in his attempt to stand taller.

"And yet, you are studying Invisibility."

"As a battle technique."

"A battle technique?" Her eyes sparkled with sudden amusement and she smiled wider, showing straight, white teeth. "You would actually consider becoming invisible in battle? That _would_ be a calculating move. You could destroy whomever you wished without ever being detected. I assume you are going to study something beyond the feeble Disillusionment Charm. Perhaps you should have been Sorted into my father's house, Ignotus."

Ignotus stiffened, and Antioch chuckled. "I'm sure Ignotus would not do anything so cunning or manipulative. He is too noble to use tactics like that."

Darkly, Ignotus said, "And yet, Master Godric reminded us that not all wizards and witches are as noble as those of the House of Gryffindor. We must be prepared to make exceptions to our dueling techniques, Miss Serpentina, depending on our opponent."

"Master Godric is wise," Serpentina assented, nodding. "And he is correct. You must be ready for _anything_ in a battle."

Antioch frowned, however, and changed the subject slightly. "If you find out what Cadmus is studying, let me know. I have not seen him today."

"I will. But he likely will not speak to me even if I see him. He has been distant lately." Ignotus inclined his head again, and his brother and Serpentina continued down the corridor, out of sight. Ignotus wondered, briefly, what Cadmus had selected for his project.

But if Antioch did not know, then it was likely that Cadmus had told no one – and even more likely that he would not tell Ignotus.


	5. Chapter 5 - Ignotus's Decision

**The Last Enemy**

**Chapter Five - Ignotus's Decision**

The end of the week arrived much faster than Ignotus expected – and, just as promised, Godric appeared in the common room exactly seven days from the night the Founders had told the school of the forthcoming challenge. Most of the students of Gryffindor clapped and whistled when he ducked through the portrait hole, and at the sight of all of them, Godric laughed good-naturedly and waved for quiet. This took several seconds, but finally, everyone settled down to pay attention.

The entire common room must have been a comical sight, Ignotus thought, as he glanced around at everyone. He was sitting out of the way on a windowsill, reading one of the books he had taken from the Invisibility section of the library, but the rest of his mates were kneeling on chairs, or leaning over the backs of them to gaze avidly at Godric, or else were standing on tables to get his attention. In fact, the only others who seemed unconcerned with the proceedings were Callisto, who was watching the shuttle fly on her silent loom, and Ross, who was bent over a large tome of ancient wizarding history.

Once silence had been achieved, Godric grinned and said, "I am glad to see you are all excited about the opportunity to study a topic that you wish to delve further into! I will now ask you one by one to tell me what your topic will be, so that I may record it and approve it." He waved his wand, and a piece of parchment and a quill appeared in midair beside him, poised to take notes. "So, let us begin! Mr. Smyth! You first!"

Ansen was standing on one of the sturdy tables, trying to look taller. Ignotus had a feeling this was because the lad was only thirteen, and rather skinny, but his age and size apparently didn't hinder his voice, which was exceptionally loud as he promptly said, "Master Godric, with your permission, I will be studying the Patronus Charm along with Rowe and Hesperia!"

Rowe and Hesperia stood up as well – Rowe on a chair where he could tower alongside Ansen, and Hesperia demurely beside the table.

"An excellent choice!" Godric beamed. "I will caution you though, Ansen. The Patronus Charm is extremely complex. I have no doubt that you will be able to perform it with dedicated practice, but accomplishing the spell may take some time, so do not get discouraged if you cannot perform it immediately…or even within a few weeks. Even Mr. Cutteridge and Miss Taillebois will have some trouble with it, though perhaps not as much as you will, as they are older and have more experience. I encourage the three of you to research the spell thoroughly, and practice against each other extensively. Be prepared to demonstrate the charm in the spring before the Founders. Next! Mr. Longbottom!"

Gaderian was sitting in one of the velvet-covered chairs, appearing cool, casual, and utterly relaxed. His research must have paid off, Ignotus thought; otherwise he would not look so smug and confident.

But what he announced caught everyone off their guard.

"I will study the Unforgivable Curses, Master Godric. I wish to learn more about them."

There was a general, sharp intake of breath. The Unforgivable Curses were as tense a topic as Horcruxes, and after the previous round table discussion, it was a mystery to how Godric would view this idea. Everyone glanced nervously at their Founder to see his reaction.

There was a long pause, but after a moment Godric asked, in a perfectly even, if not cheerful voice, "For what purpose, Gaderian?"

"You have advised us that others – those who have not studied beneath your noble self – will use dishonorable attacks against us in battle. I wish to learn more about these three curses, as to be as prepared as possible should I encounter one."

To the students' surprise, Godric apparently seemed satisfied enough with this answer, because he nodded gravely and said, "In that case, you have selected an excellent topic. However, I must have some time to consider what your presentation will be in the spring. Performing one of these curses before the Founders and other students has a strong potential for extreme danger. I shall speak with you at a later date to discuss the matter further with you. In the meantime, proceed with your research and take notes on what you find."

Then he turned and smiled at Cantrella, the cloudiness having vanished from his strong features. "Next, Miss Dreux! What shall you study?"

Cantrella smiled like a viper. "Poisons, Master Godric. I wish to learn how to detect the lesser-known poisons and their antidotes. Master Salazar has been introducing us to the most common poisons in our Advanced Potions lectures, but there are many in the world that are obscure and much more dangerous than what we are currently studying. And as Gaderian says – our enemies, whomever they are, will not use honorable attacks. Poisons surely fall beneath such evil tactics."

"You are quite right, and it is another excellent choice of study. Be prepared for some hard research, however. I have no doubts that you will apply yourself to the fullest, for Salazar has mentioned to me numerous times of your abilities in the subtle art of Potions. He has been quite impressed with your work thus far in the field. I will speak to him to see if he will allow you use of one of the dungeons in your spare time for this endeavor. I'm sure he will not object, and he can point you in the direction of certain books to use as well. And in the spring," he mused, "I think we shall have a most…_unusual_…poison prepared for you to identify, and you shall create the antidote before us."

Cantrella nodded, though Ignotus did notice that she had become quite pale at the thought of the Founders presenting her with a random, unknown poison, which she would have to identify and counteract. But Godric pretended not to notice her sudden expression, and he moved on.

"Mr. Weasley! What do you intend to research?"

Perseus was also standing on a table, though at seventeen, he was much taller than Ansen. Proudly, he announced, "I intend to study Muggles, Master Godric. Ross, Ansen, and Elva have agreed to provide me with personal information, but I would also like to go into a Muggle village to observe the sights for myself. With your permission, I should like to write an essay regarding my findings on the differences between wizards and Muggles."

Godric's mouth twitched in amusement. "An interesting topic, I daresay! Very well, I will arrange for _both_ of us to go to a Muggle village, as you will not go alone. Too much could happen and you cannot run such a risk. We must be exceedingly careful. Muggles are very suspicious of unusual personages, after all. They fear that which they do not understand. And, as you will be hard pressed to find any books about them in the library, I also suggest you speak to some of Helga's students, as well. She has a few Muggle-born witches and wizards studying beneath her, and I'm sure they will be glad to assist you. So! Next! Mr. Faintree!"

Ross was still sitting at a table, and still more subdued than the others. He glanced up from the book he had open before him, and said quietly, "I would like to study magical history and write an essay as well, sir."

While some in the room barely managed to conceal their groans at so _boring_ a topic, Godric remained light and encouraging. "As you wish, Ross," he said. "Do not forget to study the history of other areas, such as Asia Minor and Africa, as they also have a wealth of information. I expect to see exhaustive research, because your topic will be just that. Please come to me with any questions. Next – Miss Port?"

Elva was also standing on a table, though she still looked quite small. With a spunky grin, she said, "I will study unusual magical creatures from other countries and write an essay as well, Master Godric!"

"Very well. Try to get a good selection, Miss Port. There are many magical creatures throughout the world, so I would like you to focus primarily on those that are most unusual and rare. Only mention the common creatures in passing. The challenge is for you to gain knowledge over that you already possess, after all – and you already have knowledge in common magical creatures in this region."

Elva nodded to show that she understood, and Godric turned to Edsel.

"Miss Winbow, what shall you study?"

Edsel was leaning over the back of a large chair, her eyes large and hopeful. "May I study odd charms? I want to find out what sort of _weird stuff_ we can do that has no important purpose whatsoever, Master Godric!"

At this, Godric laughed outright, and loudly. "_Merlin_, but you do amuse me, Miss Winbow! Most excellent! Yes, yes – let us not forget that magic goes so far beyond that which we always consider! There are many spells and charms that few remember, simply because they are completely out of the ordinary, or perhaps serve a purpose which we do not believe useful! I cannot wait to see what you will perform for us in the spring! I would like you to perform several of these spells, I believe. I will discuss them with you later, after you have finished your research."

Still chuckling, he turned to Ignotus, and said brightly, "And Mr. Peverell, what of you?"

Ignotus shifted and closed the book he was reading. "Invisibility, Master Godric. And its uses in conjunction with Defense."

"Invisibility?" Godric smiled, though Ignotus could not read the expression. It seemed cheerful, but at the same time, there seemed to be some other emotion lurking behind it. Amusement, perhaps?

But after a fraction of a second, his master continued, "Very well. It is a tight subject, with little room for expansion, but you will find some interesting bits of information within the narrow realm, which are not well known. Do not be afraid to delve and test what you find. And finally, Miss Stewart?"

Castillo looked up and said quietly, "I will study healing spells, sir."

Again, Godric paused, and Ignotus thought he saw something else behind his Founder's expression than the usual, cheerful smile. But, it was so fleeting that Ignotus wondered if he had merely just imagined it, for Godric then said, "Another excellent choice. In conjunction, as in Ignotus's case, with Defense?"

She nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir."

"Approved, then. Many wizards forget that, if you are intending to be involved in a battle, you must also be prepared to heal yourself, and others, of injury. It is not always glory that awaits you on such fields. Well, enough!" He clapped his hands, and the quill and parchment vanished. "All of you have selected some marvelous topics; I cannot wait to see what you will present to us in the spring! I suggest you spend the rest of first term researching, and begin practicing spells or writing your essays after Yule. I will speak to each of you individually about your projects regularly throughout the next few months to inquire of your progress and any challenges you may encounter. Also, do not let your current studies be affected. This is merely an extra study. If you face any difficulties in your selected topic, please find me. That said, I shall see you all tomorrow for your Transfiguration lesson, and I expect everyone over the age of sixteen to be able to transform themselves into a cauldron. Everyone younger than sixteen should be prepared to transform turtles into soup bowls. Good night!"

With that, Godric turned and exited through the portrait. Immediately, excited chatter broke out amongst the students as they began discussing the topics they had selected and what they would do first, the moment they were able to escape to the library and begin their research.

But Ignotus did not join in the discussions; he merely returned to his book. Invisibility was proving more interesting than he had imagined, despite Godric's suggestion that the subject was very narrow. Actually, it seemed there was a lot of complicated, advanced spell work required to make one's self completely invisible. The Disillusionment Charm was only the tip of the iceberg. Ross was still miffed at his decision to study a subject he felt was worthless, but Ignotus was compelled by the fascination of something so obscure.

oOo

The next morning, when he entered the Great Hall, he discovered what Cadmus had decided to research. And apparently, no one was happy about it – least of all, Antioch.

The eldest of the three brothers stopped Ignotus just as he entered the hall, and Antioch's scowl made him look so exceedingly fierce and unapproachable that the youngest warily backed up a step.

Without preamble, Antioch said acidly, "Our _brother_ intends to study Reverse Spell Effects for his challenge, to see if they can possibly reclaim the dead, and intends on creating an object which will do _just that_. Mistress Rowena told him it was a foolish venture, but he is not listening to her."

Trying not to sound sarcastic, Ignotus said, "He mentioned reclaiming the dead in the last round table discussion. You seem surprised by his decision."

"But I did not believe that he was actually _insane_ enough to _act_ upon the thought. Clearly, I miscalculated."

"Perhaps we're all insane. You're making a superior wand and Cadmus wants to bring back the dead, and I'm studying _Invisibility_."

"Yes, but wands are important objects in our world; without them, we are nothing! And you will likely find your subject highly interesting and useful. On the other hand, one _cannot_ bring back the dead. It is a ridiculous venture with no hope of success!"

Wearily, Ignotus said, "Let him be. There is nothing we can say that will deter him, and you know it."

Angrily, Antioch muttered, "Yes, you are correct about _that_. But I do not wish him to bring harm on others."

Ignotus followed Antioch's gaze across the Great Hall to where Cearo was sitting with the rest of Mistress Helga's students. Her long blonde hair, which was so often neatly braided, hung limp and straggling down her back. Her cheeks also seemed puffy and her eyes were red; she was staring at Cadmus, who was sitting apart from the other students of Ravenclaw, making notes on a parchment and not bothering to heed anyone.

After a long pause, Antioch said, "Let me know what you find out about invisibility spells. It should be a most intriguing subject. I doubt that even I know all you will eventually discover."

And with that, he turned and left the Great Hall.

With a heavy sigh, Ignotus glanced sadly towards the table of Salazar's students, desperate to take his eyes off of Cearo and Cadmus. But to his shock, he discovered that Cearo wasn't the only disgruntled female in the hall. Serpentina Slytherin was frowning severely at Antioch's retreating back. Apparently, his eldest brother had been ignoring his lover lately, as well.

Ignotus quickly diverted his eyes and went to his own table. He would not be the one to remind Antioch that he, too, was hurting someone who cared about him, all because of his obsession with wandlore. But these thoughts still nagged at the back of his mind for the rest of the day, and he found it difficult to focus on his lessons because he was thinking so much of his two brothers and their obsessions.

Apparently his lack of attention became noticeable, because by the end of the week, Godric tracked him down in the main courtyard during a free period. Ignotus had been sitting on one of the stone benches, oblivious to the seeping cold simply because the courtyard was vacant and he would be undisturbed. He was reading a heavy, moldy book of obscure spells created by the Egyptians, focusing solely on a chapter regarding invisibility, when suddenly the pages ruffled sharply, as though in a high wind.

Furious, he drew his wand, ready to verbally attack at whoever had dared to interrupt his solitude (and possibly throw a well-aimed Jelly Legs Jinx).

But instead of one of his friends or brothers, he discovered his _Founder_ frowning at him. The annoyance changed to panic, and Ignotus quickly slammed his book shut, thrust his wand back into his cloak, and stammered an apology for his reaction.

"Master Godric! I did not see you, sir. I am sorry –"

"No, no. You were deep in thought."

And before Ignotus could reply, Godric reached forward and took the book from his hands as though it weighed nothing; perhaps he had put a charm on it nonverbally so that it really _didn't_ weigh anything. He began to flip through it, and Ignotus rose nervously.

"I was researching for my challenge, sir."

"As I see."

He watched with a strange, twisting knot forming in his stomach, as Godric flipped through several pages, his frown still firmly in place.

And when he couldn't bear the silence or the dark expression any longer, Ignotus swallowed and asked, "Is something wrong, Master Godric?"

Godric glanced up at him with a piercing gaze that made Ignotus feel as though he had definitely done something wrong. And as suddenly as his Founder had taken the heavy volume, so he closed it and handed it back. But he did not leave. Instead, he sat down on the cold bench and invited Ignotus to sit as well.

Gravely, he asked, "Pray, why have you chosen to study the obscure subject of invisibility, Ignotus?"

Ignotus faltered, unsure why Godric seemed so severe. "I… I thought it would be interesting, sir."

To this, there was a long pause. He eventually diverted his eyes, half afraid to continue looking at his Founder.

"I can, of course, extract the truth from your mind, Ignotus. But I would prefer that you tell me yourself. So I will ask you again. _Why_ have you chosen to study invisibility?"

Ignotus swallowed and shivered, suddenly much colder than he had been only five minutes prior.

And he had been doing so well, he thought hopelessly. He had thought he had finally been able to move forward from learning the news of his father's death. It had been almost two months since he had learned of it, after all! He thought he could hide behind the desire to study Invisibility, by claiming it was an interesting subject.

How could Godric know so much from so little?

In a quiet, shameful voice, he finally mumbled, "Is it so terrible that I should wish to become invisible at times, Master Godric?"

"Why should you wish to become invisible?"

Feeling hopeless, Ignotus said, "Sometimes I wish I could be invisible to avoid others. To disappear and not to have any worries. I know that sounds wretched and cowardly. One cannot avoid responsibility… but I'm not sure that's quite how I mean it. It's just that, sometimes, I wish I could simply become _invisible_. The world is such a dangerous place. It would be a relief to be able to have a means of defense that is different from the spells and curses I already know so well."

"And that is indeed a wise idea, Ignotus. Sometimes the best defense is to _avoid_the fight, rather than getting killed or grievously injured."

However, this one statement, said so calmly and understanding, had the effect of ice – cold, freezing, gripping. It was worse then the seeping cold of the bench they were seated on; it flooded Ignotus's brain and threatened to suffocate him. He forcibly reminded himself to breath, not to panic.

But Godric had noticed the way he had stiffened.

"Are you afraid of death, Ignotus?" he asked quietly, thoughtfully.

"Master Godric, I fear I _am_ a coward." Ignotus buried his face in his knees. "I feel as though I have disgraced you, as though I do not deserve to study beneath you! I thought I had finally moved beyond my father's death!" He gripped his hair tightly, angry and hurt with himself. "I wish to become invisible because I wish to avoid death…not for myself, but for others as well!"

"Ignotus, you are no coward. No one moves beyond death so easily or quickly, unless they are truly evil and have no concerns for anything or anyone but themselves. You are not like that. The desire to avoid death is a common trait in humanity. Everyone is afraid of that _one moment_. The final moment of life. It is the end of everything we know, and yet, the beginning of everything we do _not_know. I can understand that you wish to become invisible to avoid it, if possible. In a battle, this would be an interesting technique to use against your opponents."

"Please, cease to humor me, sir. It does not lessen the fact that I am a coward; that I would be so despicable as to become invisible and attack an enemy when they could not see me."

"You are not listening to me. I have already said you are not like that. You would not attack an enemy from behind, Ignotus. There is a difference between facing the battles that are necessary, and in escaping the battles that are not. Even I have bowed gracefully out of battles that I deemed unnecessary to fight. It is not running; it is _choosing_. The small, worthless battles are often the most dangerous. What is the sense in dying for a small, trifling matter when larger issues are present? Avoiding certain fights is just as brave as facing your enemies. And the ability to become invisible at will is an intriguing thought. But it is all about the _choices_ we make, Ignotus."

"Then why do I still feel so terrible for my choice of study? I am interested in Invisibility, but at the same time, I am horrified at my decision."

"Because you are, essentially, a good person. Fear does not make you less than you are, nor does excessive bravery. Everyone is a balance of the two."

"You are not. You are all bravery, and no fear."

Godric chuckled, but Ignotus noticed that his master also looked weary and bittersweet, almost sad. "Then I have failed you all, if you believe such a thing. I am not the bravest man who has walked the earth. I, too, have fears." He paused, and then murmured, "Many of them, if you will believe it."

Confused, Ignotus asked, "But what could _you_ possibly fear, sir?"

A strange, closed expression came over Godric's face, as though a tapestry had fallen behind his eyes, shielding his inner thoughts from Ignotus. And while Ignotus could tell his master was not angry with him, it was also clear that the subject would not be delved into further, nor would Godric answer the question. Instead, he finally forced a small smile and said, "I fear much, Ignotus. But do not trouble yourself about my worries. Let us focus on your own."

"You have worries," Ignotus said miserably, "And yet, I bother you with mine. That is not fair."

"You are hardly _bothering_ me! I _asked_ for your true feelings on the subject of your challenge, and invited your thoughts. Now, we return to that subject. I am glad you have chosen Invisibility, Ignotus. It is a mysterious subject with many interesting points, though, as I said before, a narrow field. But it is most definitely not – and I do not ever want you to believe otherwise – a subject of coward's study. You are not running from death, you are simply picking and choosing your battles. So, what shall you select for your final presentation? An essay? An object? A demonstration?"

Ignotus felt oddly drained from their discussion, but marginally more at ease. With a careless shrug, he looked down at the ancient book in his numb hands and said, "I do not know, sir. I haven't particularly thought about it. But, Disillusionment Charms and Bedazzling Hexes wear off after time, and they do not truly render the wizard invisible. There are… glitches, if you will. I have noticed this in my Charms' lessons with Mistress Helga. And, actually, I was just reading about the Ancient Egyptians when you happened upon me. They seem to have several unusual spells that I wish to try and practice."

"Spells are still spells, however. And all spells will wear off eventually. Ignotus, to truly become invisible, you will have to tap a greater magic than what you currently know and understand." Godric smiled slightly, almost as though he were bemused.

Confused, Ignotus asked, "Greater magic, sir?"

"Oh, yes. You do not truly believe that what you are learning here at Hogwarts is the only magic, do you?"

"No, sir. That is why I wish to study ancient cultures' techniques on the subject of invisibility."

"You still misunderstand me. Even ancient cultures follow the same guidelines as you do now, for the most part. I am talking of magic greater than what you are remotely aware. Magic that surpasses everything most wizards ever consider. The beautiful magic that defines life, death, time, love, hate, fear, bravery. You are young, but you will come to understand this magic, even if it takes time. It is the magic which moves our lives, the magic that is in the very fiber of the universe. I confess; it is difficult to explain. But to become _truly_invisible, you must tap this magic. You must admit things to yourself that are nearly impossible to admit, you must believe in yourself when it seems there is nothing to believe in, and you must truly grasp everything about who you are – both the good and the bad things. Then, and only then, will you achieve true invisibility."

Godric paused, and then added thoughtfully, "Perhaps you should study the animals as well as the varying spells of invisibility."

Ignotus was still trying to comprehend the last speech, without much success. He had no idea what other magic Godric was referring to and, confused at the sudden change in direction, he stammered, "Animals?"

"Yes. Some animals have extraordinary properties that render them invisible. The Demiguise, for example, is an extremely rare animal, found only in remote areas of the Far East. I have never even seen one, myself. But, as I understand it, I couldn't see one, even if I tried. Only wizards _trained_ to see them actually _can_. This gentle beast makes itself utterly invisible to humans, friends, enemies, all alike."

Piqued, Ignotus said, "It sounds very interesting, sir. How does it make itself invisible?"

"Its coat, as I gather. The Demiguise has a coat of very long, very fine hair. In fact, the hair is so fine it is said to be like threads of the thinnest silk. I once met a Mongolian wizard in Gaul who was trained to see them. He said they hide so well they are nearly impossible to catch."

"But…why do they hide, sir?"

"I believe it is because they are so gentle. They fear everything, from what I was told. They are completely non-violent. Why don't you see if you can find any books about this animal? You may also consider researching the area of Mongolia and Asia Major, and the mountains between Asia Major, Asia Minor, and Eurasia. There may be other similar animals in the world."

Godric then put a hand on his pupil's shoulder, and rose from the bench. "It's deathly cold out, Ignotus. You would do better to study in the castle. And I must find Gaderian – he's next." He gave Ignotus a twinkling, mischievous smile and winked roguishly.

Flushing with the instantaneous realization that Godric was seeking out _all_ of his students to question them further about their challenges and make them stop and think, and that he wasn't the only one who had been singled aside, Ignotus ducked his head and rose as well. "Yes, sir."

He should have known Godric wished to test them all, to discover their true reasons for their selections in the challenge. That was how Godric worked, after all.

And, as his Founder went inside, his boots crunching on the thin layer of icy snow that covered the cold courtyard, the man merely laughed good-naturedly.

So good-naturedly, in fact, that Ignotus wondered yet again what on earth Godric Gryffindor had to fear.

The next few days passed in a whirlwind. In between lessons, students within the castle were devoting their free time to studying and researching their challenge topic. Ignotus located several additional books in the library that were a great help – he read about the Ancient Greeks' little-known spells that granted invisibility for longer periods of time than the usual spells did, as well as the complex Chinese theories regarding the subject, and the Nordic attempts to blend in to their surroundings for hunting purposes.

However, books regarding the mysterious Demiguise were harder to find; only a couple even mentioned the creature's extraordinary ability to disappear utterly and completely. He would have to discuss with Godric the possibility of procuring additional texts and scrolls from other areas of the world, if such a thing could be done.

While he studied in the library, Ignotus saw many of his friends working on their projects, as well. Callisto was constantly in the section that contained books of healing spells – she had even stopped work on her magical loom to gather information. Perseus had failed in his attempt to find any written material on Muggles, and he confided that he would have to venture out with Godric soon. But in the meantime, he was drilling any Muggle-born in the school who would let him pepper them with questions – Ross admitted secretly to Ignotus that he was sick of trying to help Perseus at all, and even Elva had snapped at him to leave her alone for an hour so she could research her _own_ project.

Then there was Antioch, who was ignoring everyone's congratulations for inspiring the Founders to come up with the idea of the challenges in the first place. Ignotus saw him rarely as the next two weeks went by; apparently,Antioch was spending most of his time locked in his dormitory, his desire for revenge consuming his thoughts. It was rumored he had mountains of complicated notes, which no one understood in the least.

Cadmus was also spending much of his time secluded from others, which was even more disturbing than Antioch's withdrawal. The students of Ravenclaw confirmed that the middle Peverell brother was indeed studying spells of magical reversal, and they all believed that Cadmus was foolish and mad for what he wished to achieve. Furthermore, they often complained that he could be overheard muttering feverishly to himself.

He was also ignoring Cearo, who had taken to asking Ignotus if he had spoken to Cadmus, nearly _every-single-bloody-day_. Ignotus was growing rather tired of her clingy attention, for she didn't seem to stop her inquiries, despite his_insistence_ that Cadmus hardly spoke to him, either. He finally grew so tired of her that he traced Cadmus to the library one afternoon and demanded his older brother speak to Cearo, if only to stop her from bothering him daily.

Cadmus, on the other hand, merely scowled at him and told him he had important research to complete, because the spells he was attempting to learn were much more difficult than Ignotus or Antioch's challenges, and furthermore, that Cearo, of all people, should understand that. Ignotus had stormed off in temper because Cadmus was so unfeeling and ungentlemanly, and reported to Cearo the next day that his brother was a right arse. Cearo had just sniffled and thanked him for trying, apologized for being such a bother, and made the off-hand comment that she hadn't felt much like herself the last week, having been ill.

Ignotus tried to forget about her and continued to dig deeper for books on the Demiguise, believing, for whatever reason, that the mysterious animal was the key to his quest for knowledge on invisibility. He was baffled at what the tangible manifestation of his project would be, however. He had no desire to write an essay or perform a variety of spells. He wanted to do something grander, something that would awe his Founders and his fellow classmates.

And, in the end, it was really Antioch that gave Ignotus his idea, though the eldest Peverell had no idea that he had inspired the youngest. After several nearly sleepless nights, Ignotus suddenly came to the conclusion that, if Antioch were creating a wand, and if Cadmus were creating an object that would bring back the dead, he should create some sort of an object to impress his teachers, as well. His thoughts began to move forward quickly, as though he were running to reach the idea he could see hovering, tantalizingly, before him. The Demiguise, the mysterious animal Godric had mentioned, could vanish completely by means of its long coat. What if he, Ignotus, could create a garment that would render him invisible simply by tossing it over his body? A cloak, perhaps? That was logical – cloaks worked for humans the same way a coat did for an animal.

The problem was, Ignotus has no idea how to create such an object. For once in the six years he had been training at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his mind felt ridiculously sluggish and dull. He was one of the most brilliant students of his age, so why was his mind refusing to locate a solution to his problem?

The only thing he could think to do was to create a cloak out of Demiguise hair, but even Godric had never seen the beast before – so how in the name of Merlin's third mistress was he, Ignotus, supposed to track one down and steal even _one_ of the fine, thin hairs – let alone thousands of them – to weave such a project? Especially if one needed special training to detect the elusive creatures in the wild!

Still, the more he thought of it, the more fanciful the thought became, and it took hold of his thoughts in a way that annoyed him to no ends. It was such a harebrained idea. There was no possible way to make it work. And yet, before he knew it, Ignotus was consumed with the idea of creating a cloak that would render him invisible without casting spells upon his body itself. He continued reading, but by this point, he had read all the books the library offered on the subject of invisibility, and he was ready to _do_ something, rather than keep researching the way Cadmus was doing.

Finally, when he could think of absolutely nothing else, he forced himself to visit Godric in his Founder's personal chambers, to ask for advice.

To his surprise, Godric's dark eyes twinkled merrily when Ignotus slipped into the room after being bid to enter upon his knock. He wondered if the man had been expecting him, and everyone else, to come for help.

But before Ignotus could explain himself, Godric said, "I was wondering when you would finally reach a dead-end and seek my assistance. Although, it has taken you longer than some of the others – Gaderian has already visited me, as well as Ross, Perseus, Elva, and Cantrella."

Ignotus flushed. "I have been trying to determine a path for myself, sir. I was hoping I would not have to request assistance in this challenge."

Then, realizing how abrupt and biting the words must have sounded, he apologized.

"I meant… What I _meant_ was –"

Godric laughed. "What you _meant_ was, you – just as _everyone else_ – wanted to do this on your own, and it pains you to seek help! I have already had this conversation with each of the students I have previously mentioned. You are not the only one who believes themselves invincible, Ignotus." He gestured to a tall chair before his elaborately carved desk. "Now, sit down, and pray tell why you have come."

Ignotus sat on the edge of the seat, suddenly quite fidgety and nervous. After a moment, he pulled a piece of parchment from inside his cloak and unfolded it, saying, more in a rush than he intended, "I have been trying to decide what I should present at the end of next term in regards to my challenge, sir. I do not wish to write an essay or perform spell work. From my studies the past couple of weeks in the subject of Invisibility, I have learned that there are many types of magic from many regions of the world that we never consider. The Egyptians and Greeks have many unusual spells that I am intrigued by, such as the Aoratos Curse, and other charms to specifically render their tombs undetectable – which I feel is very important to my studies. And the Romans had certain spells that work much better than the Disillusionment Charm, but they're so obscure that it will require additional research into their language to decipher them – and I thought I knew Latin well! I know that some of them were used to protect wizarding necropolises, but others were used to hide objects of importance within the household from potential thieves. Then, in the mountains surrounding Transylvania, there are even more dangerous curses, like the Láthatatlan Curse and the Reverse-Appearance Hex, used against enemies, which are so dangerous that I wondered if I should even read about them! On the other hand, I discovered the Old Norse Usynlig Jinx, which can be used on a single body part or a single object, and is much tamer than the curses of Transylvania. The Norse wizards also have spells that enable them to blend in to their surroundings in order to hunt, which are slightly different from the Disillusionment Charm. In the Far East, in Nippon, there are strange spells called Inbijiburu Jimons, which I don't understand at all. I was hoping you would be able to procure any information about this for me…apparently they use these spells for a variety of purposes, but those purposes were not included in the text I was reading from our library. It was also very difficult to find any texts regarding the Demiguise, except for everything you have already told me, plus one additional fact."

Ignotus paused to take a breath; Godric had not stopped him at any point in his rambling, nor did he speak now. He simply looked extremely interested, so Ignotus plunged on.

"According to a book I found on unusual animals of the Far East, the Demiguise is said to be very gentle, but highly terrified of all that come near it. For this reason, it becomes invisible, to protect itself. You told me this much, but the text goes a step further. It claimed that the pelts were highly valued. It did not say _why_ they were valued, though. However, I was wondering… Antioch is making a wand for his project. If I am studying Invisibility, then perhaps… if I could procure a pelt… I could…" He began to trail off, realizing how stupid and far-fetched he must sound, but managed to force himself to finish what he had started, because Godric was watching him very closely. "…I could create a cloak that would render the wearer invisible. Sir."

The seconds ticked by in heavy silence, which slowly began to feel more like an eternity. Godric seemed deep in thought; his gaze was blank and he was utterly still. But then, just as Ignotus was about to hastily state that the idea was foolish and he would simply write a paper instead, his Founder finally roused himself to sit up straighter and lean over his desk to speak.

In a quiet voice, he said, "What you suggest would be an exceedingly difficult task, Ignotus. Securing the pelt, I'm afraid, would be the easiest part."

"The easiest? But sir, they can only be captured by trained wizards, and –"

Godric held up a hand, forcing his student to silence. After another long pause, he said quietly, "Securing the pelt could be done. For a price. You would have to be prepared to part with a large amount of Peverell gold for such a prize, I believe."

Ignotus swallowed. His family was one of the wealthiest pureblood lines in all of the British Isles; only the House of Black was stronger than the House of Peverell. He, and both of his brothers, each had a vast inheritance that would last centuries of generations if properly managed. His mother did not care how he spent his share, which resided in his own private vault in the goblins' underground caverns near the River Thames, and even if he spent some of it to purchase a Demiguise pelt, he would have enough left for him and at least two future generations, if not three or four, depending on how he invested his wealth.

"I am prepared for that, sir," he said slowly.

Godric's thoughtful frown did not disappear, however. "As I say, that part would be the easiest. I would be willing to trace a pelt for you, though it may take some time. The hardest part will be to create the cloak you desire. Most invisibility spells were off after a time – either in a few hours, or a few decades, depending on the spell and its uses. Your best chance is to further research the spells used to secure wizarding tombs of the past. Such spells were designed by the ancients to last centuries. And that is what you need. You must discover a way to create a cloak that never becomes opaque; a cloak that remains utterly perfect throughout the ages."

Confused, Ignotus sputtered, "But how?"

His founder gave him a small smile. "I advised you a while back that you would need to tap uncharted magic to accomplish your task. And I meant it. But for now, let us focus on how you will create a cloak once the pelt is secured, and not on the spells that will render the wearer invisible."

When Ignotus looked hopelessly blank, Godric mused, "You would need to dissect the pelt, hair by hair, to create the threads for a cloak. Then you would need to weave each of those threads into the desired shape. You cannot simply throw the pelt over your body, you know. You would have done nothing to earn marks for your challenge except toss some gold about, in that case."

"Callisto." Her name fell from Ignotus's lips too easily; he flushed bright pink as soon as it left his mouth. The beautiful girl whom he was hopelessly in love with, but to whom he had never confessed his feelings, was the one person who had the ability to help him now.

Of course.

Godric smiled, though it seemed a secretive smile. Ignotus hoped his master had not read his thoughts at that moment, and his insides squirmed unpleasantly.

But if he had, Godric did not mention it. Instead, he said, "If I were you, I would ask her in advance. She is working very diligently on her own project, as I am sure you well know. But she is talented in the field of weaving, and she knows many tricks and spells that might be of importance in your work. However. You_cannot_ pay Callisto to weave the cloak for you – you will have to let her train you to use her loom. Are you willing to do a woman's task, Ignotus? Are you willing to weave cloth?"

"Yes, sir! I mean, I would never _dream_ of…!" Ignotus swallowed his anger at his Founder's suggestion. "I would never ask her or pay her to do my own project! I would not be embarrassed to weave a cloak for my challenge."

Godric nodded in approval. "Very well. But I fear, Ignotus, that you have chosen the most difficult challenge of all my students. Perhaps of all the students in the castle."

Ignotus swallowed again. "Perhaps. But I will see it through, sir. I will not fail if I can possibly achieve."

"I will see what I can do for you, then. I will speak to you once I know more. Was that all for today, then?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. You are free to go."

Ignotus rose and left, though he felt as though he were sleepwalking. It was only when he reached the portrait to the tower did he wonder again if he were going mad, desiring to create a cloak from _Demiguise hair_.

But then, if he were mad, surely Godric would have told him so.

…wouldn't he?


	6. Chapter 6 - Obessions of Hate & Death

**The Last Enemy**

**Chapter Six - Obsessions of Hate and Death**

The candle guttered in the pewter sconce, sending dim flecks of light over parchments of extensive notes and two open tomes upon the cluttered table. It was quite late, but Antioch was almost finished, and he did not wish to go to sleep until the last bit of research had been documented.

He had exhausted every book regarding wandlore that the Hogwarts' library had to offer; but more importantly, he had visited Deogal Ollivander four times already in Hogsmeade, thereby gaining much additional knowledge that was impossible to glean from a book. And still, it was only a fraction compared to the vast stores of yet-uncharted information regarding wands.

Antioch had quickly become aware that Ollivander had a vault of knowledge stored away in his head, which he would not give up all at once – if at all. It would be a long process in which the eldest Peverell would have to prove himself worthy, before he could obtain the crucial, vital information he needed to succeed.

His eyes flickered to the candle as it sputtered and sent a myriad of golden specks across his spiky, meticulous handwriting. For a brief moment, he allowed his mind to drift, needing the rush of anger his thoughts would bring, in order to refocus on his task, lest he yearn for his soft bed and decide to complete the research the following morning. He needed to begin collecting materials next, and he desired to remain on a tight schedule.

Within the tiny, dancing flame, he could see everything that had happened just a few short months ago – beginning with the huge, rocky, uneven stretch of land between a large castle and a double-towered fortress. The distance between the two structures was some two leagues, and they were only visible to each other in the clearest of weather. Both allegedly belonged to the Findlay Clan as points of defense against the raging North Sea, unwanted visitors, and enemies.

Unfortunately, that particular day, the weather was so dismal that neither stronghold was visible to the other from the point in the center, nor could anyone define where the edges of the cliffs were. Several wizards had vanished from both sides of the battle, simply because they had wandered too close to the sky and slipped, plummeting nearly fourteen hundred feet to the churning, crashing, yawning black waves below.

Antioch had not been foolish enough to venture towards the sea's side of the battle, though he'd had to force Cadmus to avoid that direction more than once. His middle brother had no sense of direction, especially in such foggy, gray conditions, and this characteristic irritated the eldest to no end.

However, for Antioch, such conditions heightened his senses and made the battle a challenge rather than a hindrance. In fact, his only _hindrance_ was to keep Cadmus alive; would his brother have stayed at Peverell Fortress, Antioch could have focused much more clearly on the battle at hand and actually enjoyed the rush of adrenaline and the crucial, instantaneous decisions that had to be made.

While many of Findley Clan had panicked when they discovered the clouds had rolled in before dawn, Antioch literally thrived on the difficultness of the situation and used the weather to his advantage. After all, if such weather made things difficult for the forces of Findley, it would also make the battle difficult for the forces of MacBain. Using his cool logic, he had managed to kill three of the MacBain wizards just in that battle alone, but for his three, Findlay had lost eight.

Cadmus had been by far the worst warrior on the field; it was a miracle he had survived at all. But despite the fact that he kept his life that day, he had been confused and panicked, and as such, the middle Peverell brother had nearly attacked two of his allies and had almost attacked Antioch, before Antioch lost his temper and sent his brother back to the main line in a rush of fierce temper. Cadmus was not suited for outlying work, which was more difficult and more deadly; and yet, he had complained bitterly when Antioch had all but thrown him towards the Findlay lines.

Antioch hadn't given a damn what Cadmus felt. Battle was the last place for sullen, childish tantrums and the worst place to become confused and panicked. And Antioch had promised his mother he would keep Cadmus safe; though that day, he sorely wished he'd promised nothing of the sort.

It was only when Findlay sounded a regrouping call that Antioch himself left the misty fields of battle, though he was forced to step over several bodies on his way back towards the towers that Findlay still controlled. They were no closer to approaching the fortress that the MacBain Clan had taken two weeks prior, and he was furious that he should have to retreat for a respite when he had been doing so well on his own.

But his victories were not unsung. When he returned to the base camp, half a league from the tower, several of the leaders nodded to him as he approached, and his father met him and gave him a proud smile, while clapping his shoulder solidly.

"Thou hast done well, Antioch. I have heard tale that you have dueled three wizards of MacBain, and won all of your individual battles in the middle land."

"And so I desire to return to the field," Antioch had said coldly. He could ignore the cuts to his cheek and temple, and the mud that splattered up his boots and cloak, simply for this praise and the chance to return to battle.

He had thought that surely Corvus would not deny him this request, but seconds later Antioch received the shock of his life.

"Nay." His father nodded towards the leaders of Findlay, who were gathered in a tight circle, frantically discussing their options. "Despite your victories, our forces are, on the whole, doing quite poorly. Murchadh has decided that we must pit everything on a single duel."

"A single duel?" Antioch's brow had furrowed and his dark eyes narrowed sharply. "Against whom?"

"Athol MacBain. The strongest of their warriors. They have agreed. If we win the duel, we will gain four strongholds on the venture. If we lose, then we must retreat and hand over three additional fortresses."

So it was down to this, was it? Findlay and MacBain had been battling for nearly five years over land disputes, with little gained and many lives lost. It was time for it to end. Inhaling sharply, he said, "I understand. I shall accept such a duel, father."

But Corvus had merely chuckled at his request; the sound immediately grated against Antioch's nerves.

"Hardly, my son! I will not send my eldest on such a deadly errand, for one of the duelers will most definitely lose everything. I did not even wish you as an outlying warrior, seeing as you must carry on our family name. _I_ have offered my services to Tearlach, and I shall accept this challenge. You, however, must remember your mother, and your brothers. Ignotus is still a boy," he went on, now grave. "He will need your guidance, if perchance I fail. Cadmus is not up to such a task, and I rather believe Ignotus likes you best out of his choices. He looks up to you, Antioch. He would be devastated if I returned to tell him you had been killed."

The candle guttered from a sudden draft, and Antioch tensed, bringing himself back to the reality of his small dormitory in Hogwarts before he lost his temper. Despite his father's words that day, and despite the fact that he knew he had a duty as the eldest son, he had not wanted his father to accept the duel. He would have gladly taken the opportunity. Ignotus, after all, could have carried on the Peverell name.

The worst was that, simply because the Peverell family had a distant blood relation with the Clan of Findlay, did not mean they needed to step into something so deadly, and that was what had infuriated Antioch the most. Tearlach, as leader of his clan, should have accepted this challenge rather than passing it off to Corvus, who was simply an ally, only distantly related to the Clan by blood, just because Corvus was the better dueler.

But despite his fury at Findley's decisions, Antioch had not gainsaid his father. He had stepped back, alongside Cadmus (who had seemed even less cheerful of Corvus's decision than Antioch was), and when the warriors returned to the center of the battlefield to face the Clan of MacBain, he had stood at his father's left side, tall and proud and dark, his wavy, shoulder-length hair tousled across his forehead and his eyes narrowed sharply on Athol MacBain.

Athol wore a heavy, goblin-made armor that shielded his body and face, but even such armor was faulty. Antioch knew where the weak points were, where Athol would likely be unsuspecting. And he knew that his father would be aware of these as well. But when Corvus Peverell had stepped forward without any armor whatsoever, wearing only his breeches, knee-high boots, a heavy tunic and a thick cloak, Antioch had felt a stab of fear such as he had never felt in his life.

He had known somehow, in that instance, that the venture was doomed.

The worst part had not been watching the duel itself, for Antioch was accustomed to such things. He had been fighting in the Clan Wars for an entire year. Cadmus, on the other hand, was more panicked during this segment than the hours preceding. Antioch ignored him for the most part, focusing sharply on the flying of curses and flashes of light.

The worst part had been when Athol shouted a curse that Antioch had been entirely unfamiliar with. It did not occur slowly as some people expect such things to happen, but it had been fast and blinding. It hit Corvus Peverell's wand's tip and before Antioch even knew what had happened, his father was suddenly on the ground. Blood was everywhere, and the wand was in hundreds of splinters over the rocky crevices. Cadmus had immediately begun screaming incoherently; some of the Findlay Clan had grabbed hold of his arms to keep him from running forward while others lifted their wands, ready for instant fighting should it break out. Antioch himself had already thrown up a defense, sensing that Athol's next move would be to eliminate additional warriors wherever possible. It had proved well thought, for at least two spells collided with the protection shield Antioch had cast, only seconds after he had throw it before the Findlay lines. And, as soon as they had rebounded, he had begun fighting against Athol, even as his father's blood continued to seep across the cold stones on the ground.

Then, above the din of Cadmus's screams and the Findlay Clan's yells, he heard Athol's shout of laughter, followed by the most humiliating thing of all:

_Your father was a weakling, a coward! He had no command of his wand, or he would not have died! Do you have command of your wand, Antioch? Somehow, I doubt it! You do not even know how to kill, do you? Step forward and fight me if you dare, boy! My wand is the most powerful in the world; you do not stand a chance against the power of MacBain!_

The words had been mixed with sneers and more laughter, more flashes and spells and curses. Antioch was fighting fiercely, determined to destroy this man, to destroy as many as he could, hatred filling his body more than he had ever experienced.

But one of the leaders of MacBain put a stop to this new fight by grabbing Athol's shoulder and throwing him forcibly to the ground. He then snarled at the Findlay Clan to gather their dead and retreat the four leagues, as promised on the conditions of the duel. Antioch, breathing heavily, had remained standing before all of Findlay, tall and proud, his hand clenched tightly on the handle of his wand, daring Athol silently to step forward and disobey his master.

But Athol would not. He retreated, laughing mockingly all the while.

And behind the laughter, Antioch began to hear a new sound, one that came to him sharply and terribly: The sound of Cadmus's hysterical yells, rebounding off the fog-ridden landscape.

His brother had finally managed to run forward, and was now clutching his father's lifeless hand, shaking the body as though he could reawaken it. Angry with Cadmus for betraying weakness, Antioch had turned and shouted for his brother to be silenced. Then he had levitated his father's body and directed it through the crowd of warriors, hurrying to escape that place of death and destruction.

Four leagues had been a nightmare of a journey as they had guided the dead with their wands, pressing deeper and deeper within the Findlay territory, past fortresses they had lost in one single duel, because Athol MacBain had claimed to have a wand more powerful than any other.

And the information had continued to spider and twist through Antioch's brain as he listened to Cadmus's sniffles and incoherent babbling, and he became angrier and more hateful with every step.

Deep in the night, they had reached the first stronghold they had not lost: a tightly guarded castle that had never expected such a loss to arrive at so late an hour. And on the towering cliffs overlooking the North Sea, Antioch alone had buried his father's blood-encrusted, broken body, while Cadmus was given a Calming Draught and other potions to help him sleep.

In the cold, damp wind and the near pitch-blackness, Antioch had dug the hole with a shovel, relishing the feel of his tired, aching, weary muscles protesting volubly against the rough exercise. Digging kept him outside, away from the Clan, away from those who had sent his father to his death without the first shred of shame. He knew he would only lose his temper with the Findlay Clan (whom his father had reminded him more than once were their allies, no matter how distant) if he went inside before he was sufficiently exhausted, and heaven help them all if that were to happen. So instead of using his wand to create a hole, he dug it as though he knew no magic. As though he were nothing more than a common _Muggle_. It had struck him, at the end of the process, as he was filling the hole, that Salazar and Serpentina would have both been exceedingly disappointed in him. But somehow, he didn't care.

The next two weeks had been just as much of a nightmare; only the pain had resided to a dull, gnawing throb. It was becoming almost a hunger, for Antioch desired nothing more than to kill Athol and sever ties with Findlay, and his brain was constantly thinking of ways to achieve both goals.

In the meanwhile, Cadmus was talking to himself like a madman. The others believed the middle Peverell brother to be utterly mad, and Antioch had found that he was wishing more and more that Ignotus had journeyed to the north instead of Cadmus – he had more of a bond with Ignotus anyways, just as his father had told him before he had died. His youngest brother was stronger magically in the field of Defense, and stronger mentally than the middle, and Antioch had always known it.

If he cared for anyone, it was Ignotus, though Antioch had never been able to pinpoint why. Emotions were for the weak, and he was a warrior. There were times when it was appropriate to lust, to desire, to hate, to fear, to detest. But love was especially difficult for Antioch, for whatever reason. And yet, if he had allowed himself to think it, he would have said he loved his youngest brother – the brother who looked up to him and asked him for advice and help when he was studying magic, or laughed with him over a good jest during their times at Peverell Fortress. If there was any reason for severing ties with Findlay, it was for Ignotus – Antioch did not want his youngest brother to be sucked in to the fighting simply because Findlay was attempting to lay claim to a distant blood-tie. It _would_ end, as soon as Athol was dead.

Shaking himself from these reflections, he looked back at his parchments. He needed to focus on wand-making now, to achieve the first goal.

So far he had read of many things that affected the wands themselves during their creations, but the most important elements were the wood and the core.

Ollivander typically used only three types of cores, though there were many, many other options.

Unicorn tail hair was exceptionally fine, the wand maker had claimed, though wands containing one of these typically aligned themselves to those who were, as Ollivander put it, "pure of heart". That, it seemed, did not fit what Antioch wished to accomplish. He was not "pure of heart", and neither was Athol. To destroy one so evil, he would need to combat evil _with_ evil.

Then there was Dragon Heartstring, highly magical and best for Defense. But this even seemed tame for what Antioch wanted. He did not want to defend; he wanted to destroy.

Phoenix Feather intrigued him, as it was even more strangely magical than the heartstrings of the dragons. A Phoenix could be reborn from the ashes, for it never died. But after some debate, Antioch had rejected this idea also, despite his intrigue. Cadmus was trying to create an object that would reclaim the dead, and Antioch did not wish to do anything similar to his brother.

Ollivander had then reluctantly explained that some wandmakers, those from other areas of the world, used other cores. The core of a wand could be anything with highly magical properties, though it must be something from a magical creature.

Thus, Antioch had started to consider other options for the wand's core, but so far he had not selected any particular one. Most of the creatures he read about were in other countries anyways, and procuring the necessary core would prove tedious and difficult unless he selected a magical animal native to Britain.

As for the wood however, he had already decided upon Ellhorn.

Like cores, there were many types of wood used for wands, all of which gave an individual wand a different touch.

Birch was associated with purification, blessings, health, new beginnings, and vitality, while Rowan and Ash woods were used for protection. He had already decided against these three from the very beginning of his research. Alder would work if he were unable to locate Ellhorn wood, for it was a tree associated with strength. On the other hand, Willow was too flimsy and swishy and weak for Antioch's liking. Hawthorn was also associated with purity; too innocent for the task at hand. Oak might have been a good choice, for it was associated with strength as well, but Oak wands were typically heavier and more stubborn. Ignotus's wand, for instance, was Oak – and Antioch did not need a stubborn wand. The wood worked well for his brother's hotheaded temperament, but it was not likely to respond to Antioch. Holly was a wood of balance, and Antioch did not desire balance; he wanted to tip the scales. Hazel aligned with those who sought wisdom and exemplified creativity, and Vine was too cheerful a wood for his liking. Ivy went hand in hand with growth, and he had passed the phase of growth. Antioch's own wand was of Yew, and he wished to try something else.

Then he had struck upon Ellhorn, or Elder Wood. Rumored to ward off evil and death, it aligned with powerful wizards who desired to either protect others, or battle against others. Ollivander wasn't overly fond of Ellhorn, and did not make as many wands of it as he did of the other woods. But as Antioch desired to destroy evil, beginning with Athol's _superior_ wand, it seemed the most appropriate choice for his task.

From Ollivander, he also learned that a lot depended on _where_ the wood was extracted from – a tree in a forest, for example, would produce a slightly different magical vibration than a tree from near the ocean would. Ellhorn was not commonly found in the highlands of the north, but more often in the southern reaches of Britain. Therefore, a tree of Ellhorn growing in the north was much stronger, much more determined to live, than the same tree in the south. And such properties would be passed on to the wand.

After much pondering, Antioch had decided that the best place to find the ideal tree of Ellhorn was, naturally, a graveyard in the north – for it would be embedded with all the strength of the dead, and their desires to destroy evil, especially if evil had destroyed them, plus the determination to survive in a harsh environment.

Perhaps it was a twisted way of thinking, but Antioch was not overly concerned. After all, he was not trying to raise the dead. He was trying to create a wand of power. And Death, it seemed, was the most powerful entity in the world – for everyone succumbed to Death eventually.

Even Athol would bow before his final master.

He suddenly sighed, quite heavily, put his quill down, and leaned back in his chair, immeasurably exhausted. He would have to determine which creature to use for the core later. Perhaps it would not be a bad idea to sleep, some. Tomorrow, perhaps, he would discuss the idea with Master Salazar or Ollivander. But he knew he wanted a creature that defied Death as much as Ellhorn Wood did. Together, such a combination would be certain of power.

Stretching, he rose and stripped his tunic off, before extinguishing the flame of the candle with his fingertips.

oOo

The grounds were cold, but Antioch relished the nipping wind and threat of snow. The dungeons were damp, draughty, and a bit oppressing. Outside, the dismal atmosphere and freezing air gave him the reminder that all wizards and witches fought fiercely against the forces that attempted to eradicate them – be those forces natural or of human creation.

He smiled as he stopped halfway down the slope and gazed towards the leafless forest. The wild beauty of the North had always attracted him, and he remembered when he first left Peverell Fortress, at the age of eleven, to attend Hogwarts. His mother had been most distraught, and insisted to Corvus that witches and wizards were under the duty to teach their own children magic. But Corvus knew Godric Gryffindor well, and explained that the Founders of Hogwarts wanted their scheme to work – a school where young witches and wizards could go to learn magic in a controlled environment, with others of their kind. And thus, Antioch had left for Hogwarts and was taken by Salazar. The following year, Cadmus arrived, quiet and thoughtful, and was selected by Rowena. Ignotus had been desolate without his brothers, and Antioch had been proud, at the age of thirteen, when Godric announced that he would take eleven-year-old Ignotus into his fold.

Since then, the brothers had loved Hogwarts, much to their mother's disappointment. She was lonely without her sons, and now, she grieved on top of her loneliness, for her husband was dead.

Antioch stiffened at this thought, and closed his eyes to control his sudden rush of fury. To avenge, he must complete the wand. That was all he needed to think of, right now.

But when he opened his eyes, he blinked in surprise – not hatred.

Moving with graceful gaits out of the forest and onto the brown grass of the castle lawns was a large herd of Thestrals.

For a few moments, Antioch watched as the beautiful creatures folded their long, dragon-like wings and bent their heads to eat. He had heard others complain that Thestrals were ugly, deformed, horrible creatures that brought ill luck, but he had never believed such a thing. To Antioch, they were beautiful and mysterious, but gentle and placid. Sad to think they had resorted to eating grass; fresh meat must not have been available. With a pang, he wondered if he could find something to kill for them, so they would not starve throughout what was likely to be a bitter winter.

"What on earth are you staring at so intently?"

Startled, Antioch turned. He had not heard the muffled footsteps in the coarse grass behind him, but his visitor was not unwelcome.

Ignotus's jet black hair was quite tousled by the sharp wind, and he looked pale and tired, but at least he was not wearing the expression of sadness and moody sullenness he had been sporting the last two months; ever since Antioch and Cadmus had informed him of Corvus's death.

"Thestrals," Antioch replied quietly, turning his eyes back to the majestic creatures as they shivered and huddled together for warmth.

"I cannot see them."

"I know."

"I have often wondered what they looked like."

Antioch glanced at his little brother, to discover his pale features were now marked with frustration. Rather than remind Ignotus that he should be grateful he could not see the creatures of Death, or that he was certain Ignotus had possibly read about the creatures in his studies, he chose a gentler route that seemed more appropriate when discussing these animals.

"They look similar to horses; that is, they have the body of a horse. Their faces are more like those of dragons, and they have long wings with which to fly. They are fast creatures, though I confess I have never ridden one. Serpentina has. She claims they are brilliant animals. She has a fondness for our herd, here."

"Some consider them unlucky. Some say they are creatures of Death, as you can only see them if you have witnessed someone die." Ignotus was staring at the place where the Thestrals roamed, but the frustration was still there. To him, it was simply a blank void.

"Superstitions. And even if you witness someone die, you must accept the death before you can see the Thestrals. Serpentina has done quite a bit of study on them, and she discovered this fact two years ago."

There was a long pause, and then Ignotus said, "I apologize for interrupting you. I saw you on the lawn and thought I would come speak to you. I have not seen you for several days."

"My apologies. I have been quite absorbed in my work," Antioch murmured distantly, as one of the animals lifted its reptilian head and blinked at him benignly. "I hear you have been, as well."

"Yes."

"I have also heard that you have exhausted your research and are ready to begin working on your project. I am proud of you. You are the first person in the castle to complete their research prior to Yule."

"I'm not sure if that is something to be proud of," a harsh voice interrupted. "He has likely done sloppy work, Antioch. Time and patience are needed for such intense studies. Ignotus will, more likely than not, fail, for trying to complete his project with such speed."

Antioch felt his lip wrinkle, despite his attempts to remain impassive. He saw Ignotus bristle, a stiffening of his lean body beneath the heavy red cloak he wore, and before his little brother could retaliate, as was his wont, Antioch turned and sneered at Cadmus.

"We did not invite your company, or your opinions. Master Godric has already given Ignotus permission to begin his project. He would not have done so had he not been confident of our brother's endeavors and knowledge on his chosen challenge."

"Invisibility." Cadmus glared at Ignotus, despite the fact that his little brother was several inches taller than he was. He kept several feet of distance however, in case Ignotus drew his wand before Antioch could stop him. "I am stunned Master Godric has allowed you to research such a cowardly subject."

Antioch grabbed Ignotus's shoulder roughly, though he was really angry with Cadmus. His voice was harsh and grating as he snarled furiously, "Leave him be. I have already told you once, and I will _not_ tell you again."

"I do not fear you, Antioch." Cadmus smiled, but it was a twisted smile, almost psychotic.

"You should," Ignotus said suddenly, and with vehemence. "He is better than you at dueling."

Cadmus scowled. "_And_ better than you. Do not forget it."

"I would not presume to believe I could best Antioch in a duel."

"Enough," Antioch snapped. "Cadmus, what the devil do you want?"

"I merely saw my brothers on the lawn as I passed one of the windows on the first floor, and thought I would come speak to them. I did not expect such rude censure. It is clear Ignotus favors you above me."

"You are doing little to earn his favor."

"I do not wish to be at odds with either of my brothers."

"You will have to do better than that," Antioch growled, "because I do not intend to humor your strange moods, Cadmus."

Cadmus chose to ignore this remark and turned to the Thestrals with obvious distaste. "Horrid animals. Merlin, Antioch; why are you so intent upon them? And you," he added, glancing scornfully at Ignotus. "You cannot even see them. Is staring into nothingness so entertaining, brother?"

Ignotus shifted angrily, but Antioch kept firm hold on his shoulder. "I have been describing them for him. A gesture of kindness. Perhaps you should consider such things, Cadmus. And they are not horrid. They are gentle creatures. You believe idiotic rumors if you find them to be evil."

"Everyone knows they are dangerous."

"Only to those they distrust. They are gentle and good-hearted to those who show them kindness. I was considering killing a cow for them to eat, as they are cold and hungry, and few bother themselves with the care of Thestrals." He turned to Ignotus. "Perhaps you should come with me. You will be able to see them eat, though not the beasts themselves. It will be an interesting sight."

Ignotus looked surprised. "Very well."

"_Interesting_ is not the word I would select, Antioch." Cadmus shuddered. "It will be _disgusting_; all you will witness is meat and muscle being stripped from bones, Ignotus. You would do better to research your cowardly topic more than run a fool's errand with Antioch."

This time, Antioch drew his hand and slashed it through the air before Ignotus had a chance. Cadmus looked for a moment as though he might choke, and when he opened his mouth, no words came out. Scathingly, Antioch snarled, "I advised you that I would not warn you a third time, Cadmus. But, as you were selected by Mistress Rowena, it should not take you long to find a counter-curse. Ignotus, come."

And before Ignotus could comment on the fact that Antioch had hexed Cadmus,Antioch dragged his brother by the arm towards the gates of the school. He threw up a nonverbal protection spell as well, which proved useful, as Cadmus did not need his voice to attempt to fight back.

Ignotus partially turned and threw up a second protection spell as well, because Cadmus was clearly furious; fortunately, they reached the gates quickly and Antioch turned to follow one of the high stone boundary walls.

"Where are we going?" Ignotus asked, not a little confused.

Antioch was walking briskly, attempting to wear off his temper more than anything else. Harsher than he meant, he said, "There is a field half a league from here where a Muggle farmer keeps livestock."

"I am not allowed out of the castle grounds, you know that."

He paused and glanced at his brother, but Ignotus did not look worried about breaking the rules. If anything, he rather looked pleased. Antioch smiled at him, lifted his wand, and from the tip burst a silver leopard, which raced back to the castle.

"Godric will not question if you are with me," he said simply.

Ignotus laughed, and the sound washed over Antioch like balm. For a split second, he wondered if it were worth it to hate Athol so deeply. Hate was a taxing emotion, and though Antioch was strong, he had to admit it was wearing on him a bit. Ignotus was lucky, he thought, that he was so pure of heart. He had no idea how hate could eat one's soul.

They walked in comfortable silence after that, though just as they approached the field of their destination, which was surrounded by a low, smooth wall of stones, a huge silver lion bounded up behind them and roared. Antioch turned and faced it fearlessly, and the lion sat down and opened its mouth.

Godric's voice came out: calm, but with a hint of sharpness. _"Do not be long, Antioch. Younger students are not allowed outside the walls. But I shall pretend I know nothing today."_

Then the lion vanished, and Antioch chuckled. "Just like him, isn't it? You are lucky to have such a good-natured Founder, Ignotus. I fear Master Salazar is more strict."

"Master Godric can be strict, too."

"Both are excellent teachers, though." Antioch gazed over the stones to the animals that were grazing quietly in the field. Most, he noticed, were thin. A cold winter was approaching, and apparently the Muggles were having a hard year as well.

Ignotus seemed confused, and asked, "What are you looking for?"

"One that will not be missed." Antioch continued to search with his eyes. "Muggles need to live too," he said, though with slight distaste. "I would feel evil if I were to take the fattest. But I cannot take the thinnest, because the Thestrals need meat, too."

"Cannot they get meat on their own?"

"Yes, but they mostly stay in the forest. They rarely venture outside of it." He used his wand to point at a cow standing apart from the others, neither the fattest nor the thinnest.

He felt, rather than saw, Ignotus's body tense when he cast a silent Killing Curse. The green light flashed brilliantly and swiftly, the cow dropped, and he lowered his wand. It was over in seconds, but only then did he look at his brother.

"We should take two back; the herd is quite large and would appreciate more than just one. That one there," he said, pointing with his wand to another cow, "will do. Go on."

Ignotus shifted uncomfortably. "The Avada Kedavra Curse requires more than just words. I do not know how."

"Then you will learn."

"You brought me here to teach me _this_?"

Antioch sighed heavily. He did not want his brother to be a killer like he was, but Ignotus needed forbearance of mind to cast the curse. Antioch would not have him die needlessly, not without at least having the ability to fight back. His father would wish him to teach his brother such things… Just in case. Because one never knew when it might be necessary.

"Ignotus, you must learn. Please try," he encouraged quietly.

Ignotus sighed, but lifted his wand and aimed carefully, keeping his back quite straight and his chin tilted slightly.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Nothing happened, but Antioch had not expected anything the first time. He leaned against the stone barrier that surrounded the pasture. "More feeling."

"You cast it nonverbally."

"Because I have mastered the curse. Try again."

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

There was a spark of green, but no flash.

Antioch glanced emotionlessly at Ignotus's wand and flustered face. "Better. To cast a Killing Curse, Ignotus, you must focus your energy to the task. Strong emotions are best when attempting such a thing."

Ignotus lowered his wand. "Pray," he asked, hesitating slightly. "May I ask what you were thinking of when you killed just now?"

Antioch's eyebrows lifted. "The Thestrals. They are starving."

"Pity and sadness are strong emotions," Ignotus murmured, gazing at the cow.

"Any emotion can be strong, Ignotus. Channeling it is the key to this Gordian Knot."

After a moment, his youngest brother lifted his wand again, and Antioch saw his chest rise with the intake of breath.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

His voice was quiet, almost harsh, almost unfeeling, but his clear hazel eyes, the color of the leaden sky above, betrayed his true feelings. Yet, even so, this time a blinding flash of green light exploded from the end of his brother's wand, striking the unfortunate animal, which toppled after a couple of prolonged seconds.

All was quiet.

Ignotus exhaled slowly. Antioch placed a gentle, sympathetic hand on his shoulder, and his voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

"I will not lie to thee. It never gets easier."

oOo

While Ignotus stood to one side, watching the strange sight of meat being stripped from bones by unseen creatures, Antioch stroked one of the Thestrals' cold noses.

"Why can I not see them now?" Ignotus finally asked, almost impatiently.

Still a child, he was. Antioch chuckled. "Killing a mere farm animal, or watching one die, is not the same as watching a _person_ die, little brother. The two are entirely different." The chuckle died and he waxed serious. "Only when you watch a person die, and accept their death, are you able to see these creatures."

Ignotus fell silent then, though he looked sullen when Antioch glanced over his shoulder. The youngest Peverell wished he could see the strange creatures, too. Antioch felt a pang of remorse: one day, his brother would very likely be able to see the animals he himself found so beautiful, but that others, like Cadmus, detested. The ability to see the creatures only came with the witness and acceptance of Death. Thestrals represented, tangibly, the power to overcome Death.

It was as though a droplet of water had fallen from a long distance and shattered upon a perfectly still lake, as mirror of glass, and ripples suddenly fanned from the center where the drop had struck.

Antioch's hand stopped its methodical stroking of the beast before him; he stared wide without seeing.

These were creatures that defied Death, by allowing wizards and witches who embraced Death's horrific power to see them.

Just as Ellhorn defied Death with determination and power.

How had he not thought of it before now?

He suddenly heard his name, as though through a barrier of fog, but it was several seconds before he fully realized that Ignotus was calling to him, worriedly.

"I am sorry… I just realized…" Antioch trailed off, and managed to force an apologetic smile when he saw that Ignotus looked confused and wary. "Forgive me, brother. I was thinking that these creatures were grateful to us for our assistance today."

Ignotus did not look convinced, but did not ask questions. He turned to look back at the castle just as the Thestral Antioch was petting turned to head for the forest.

Taking advantage of the situation, Antioch reached forward, almost as though an unseen power made his hand move of its own accord, and as the Thestral flicked its long tail, the strands of fine black silk tossed briefly over Antioch's chilled skin.

He twisted his hand slightly, catching one single hair between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers.

The Thestral did not turn back, or flinch, when the single thread remained behind, tightly captured.

Antioch inhaled sharply.

He _would_ win this battle.

oOo

He hadn't wanted to venture out of doors at all.

He had only stepped out to speak to his brothers, but upon Antioch's harsh rebuke, Cadmus had quickly returned indoors.

Now he stood by one of the mullioned windows on the first floor again, watching as Antioch and Ignotus's figures disappeared on the line of the horizon. He clenched his fist over the object it held, feeling the smooth hardness press against his skin almost painfully.

Cadmus himself was unsure why he had bothered to speak to them. When he had first seen them together on the grounds, Antioch watching those wretched beasts with such revolting affection, he had felt a stab of sorrow at the fact that he had acted so discouragingly to his kin lately. Antioch took his attitude as he did nearly everything else – with no feeling or compassion. But Cadmus had grudgingly forced himself to admit that he was taking his anger regarding his father's death out on Ignotus, when the boy had done little to deserve the cruel remarks he had lashed at him.

Perhaps his intent had been to apologize to Ignotus. The child could not have gone to the north to fight the previous summer – even Cadmus had known that – but that was still no reason to chastise his bravery and courage. He was young and hot tempered, and he had not seen Corvus die, but one day he would go into battle and he did not need Cadmus's snarling comments in the back of his brain when he did.

Only, he couldn't bring himself to apologize once he had approached them.

There was something in Antioch's stance and haughtiness, the way he held his head with his chin tilted back and the flash of fire in his eyes, which stopped Cadmus from making amends and only fueled the middle brother's temper. The oldest Peverell brother clearly had the youngest under his wing, and Cadmus was left out.

As always.

It was no secret that Antioch cared more for Ignotus – he always had. And Cadmus had, unfortunately, overheard his father that day, only a couple of months prior.

"_I will not send my eldest on such a deadly errand, for one of the duelers will most definitely lose everything. I did not even wish you as an outlying warrior, seeing as you must carry on our family name. _I_have offered my services to Tearlach, and I shall accept this challenge. You, however, must remember your mother, and your brothers. Ignotus is still a boy. He will need your guidance, if perchance I fail. Cadmus is not up to such a task, and I rather believe Ignotus likes you best out of his choices. He looks up to you,__Antioch. He would be devastated if I returned to tell him you had been killed."_

How those words had stung at his pride. His father liked _Antioch_ the best and always had. He didn't want _Antioch_ to accept the deadly errand; he didn't want_Antioch_ to be one of the famous outlying warriors that dueled so fiercely; _Antioch_would carry on the family name; _Antioch_ must care for their poor mother; _Antioch _must guide _Ignotus's_ steps henceforth. _Ignotus_ even liked _Antioch_ best.

_Cadmus_ was not up to the tasks that _Antioch_ would accept from that day forward.

A bitter hatred had filled his body when he heard their conversation; like poison, it had flowed through his veins and burned away other emotions. He hated his father for his blatant favoritism, he hated Antioch for being so damned perfect, and he hated Ignotus for being such a child.

He took a slow, deep breath. He had managed to cast the counter-hex to Antioch's silly, childish curse, but despite this, he was in no mood to talk.

Instead, Cadmus glanced at the object in his hand – a small, smooth, black stone. It fit so neatly between his fingers, as though it had been made especially for him. But he shivered to think where it had come from.

That day – that horrid, awful day – the day he had witnessed his father's death. When the others had tried to restrain him when his father had fallen. He had fought against them, because, despite the fact that he knew Corvus preferred Antioch, and no matter how distraught his father had made him feel, Cadmus still felt as though something important had been ripped from him. Corvus had been their family's patriarch and lifeline, and in a fluttering heartbeat, he was no more.

By the time he'd managed to break free from the Findlay warriors and drop to his father's side, it was no use in attempting to cast healing spells. Cadmus blamed Antioch for this, because Antioch had been nearest to Corvus when the duel took place. But instead of trying to save his father after Athol's strange spell, Antioch had started to _fight_.

Another surge of hatred had filled Cadmus, but not towards Athol. How _could_Antioch have not tried to save their father? How could he have simply started dueling, as though trying to destroy Corvus's memory? But when Cadmus dropped beside the body, the blood on the rocks seeping unpleasantly and strangely through his breeches and against his skin, he'd looked into the blank, unseeing eyes and he had panicked.

He'd shaken the corpse and screamed at it to wake, but nothing worked. Antioch, furious, had demanded that Cadmus be restrained. But even as he was pulled away from the body, his hand had clung to Corvus's lifeless one for just a second longer. And when even this was ripped from him, the black stone remained against his palm. Corvus had clutched at the ground as the last bit of life fled him, and the stone had been between his fingers from his feeble attempt to cling to life.

Cadmus took a slow breath to calm himself. Antioch had failed to save their father's life on the battlefield, but Cadmus would not fail his father now. He would resurrect him from the grave, and bring him back to life. He would conquer his true enemy – Death itself. When his father returned from beyond, he would be glad to know Cadmus had put such effort into the endeavourer, and Antioch would be chastised for his foolishness and temper. Cadmus would receive the highest honors from his father, as he'd always desired. And the key was this stone.

As it had been the last thing his father had clutched at, it was perfect for what Cadmus wanted to accomplish. Because, to bring back the dead, a spell would not suffice. There had to be a tangible representation to accomplish the goal. And the tangible representation would be the stone itself – the stone taken from the grip of a dead man. He would embed the stone with spells derived from the reversal branch of magic, and if he did it right, he would be able to call the dead back to the land of the living.

Cadmus turned from the window and slowly trod the familiar path back to Ravenclaw's Tower. He might as well complete some additional research, as his brothers did not desire his company, but he was trying to avoid the library, as Cearo had taken to haunting him there. It wasn't that he disliked her – quite the contrary – but she was currently a nagging irritation and not at all helpful. He needed to focus and study, and he didn't want to be bothered by any other emotions, such as lust and desire. Whenever she was around, he had to forcibly restrain himself from dragging her off somewhere to make love to her. He could not afford such distractions until after he completed his spell work on the stone.

But most unfortunately, he discovered that Cearo was waiting for him at the base of the stairs to the tower door. He tensed when he saw her, and stopped short, wondering if he could escape. Then it occurred to him that she had likely been waiting there all morning, since breakfast, knowing he would at some point leave the tower and return to it. She looked up when his footsteps paused, and he scowled. It was no use running away now. He tried to brush past her, intent on reaching the sanctity of the dormitory, but to his annoyance, she would not be deterred.

Rising and grasping at his sleeve quickly, she begged, "What have I done to lose such favor? Only a few weeks ago, you were elated to see me again!"

He rounded on her in irritation. "Aye, but now I have work to do, and I cannot do it if you are distracting me! I have told you this many times, yet you do not listen, it seems!"

Her eyes shimmered with tears and she drew back, obviously hurt. "Am I such a distraction, Cadmus?"

The tremor in her voice annoyed him, and he turned to face her, frowning. "At the moment, yes, you _are_ a distraction. I promise you; when I have finished the project I have accepted as my challenge, then I shall have time again for you. You should also focus on your own project, Cearo."

For a moment, it looked as though she would burst into tears, but to his surprise, she didn't. Instead, she roused herself to stand taller, and said, "But be that as it may, Cadmus, I cannot focus on my project, for I have something important to tell you, whether you wish to hear it or not. Something that regards _us_." There was suddenly a strange determination in her eyes that he had never seen before.

Twisting her fingers and looking nervous, she plunged on, "I'm pregnant. With _our_ child, Cadmus. And I am not lying, because there is a sign to tell women such a thing is true."


	7. Chapter 7 - Teacher and Student

**The Last Enemy**

**Chapter Seven - Teacher and Student**

For the past several nights, Ignotus had carefully been watching Callisto as she sat at her loom, while Godric's suggestion drummed inside his brain. After a couple of evenings, he discovered that he was suddenly even more mesmerized than he had ever been by the flying shuttle and the interlocking threads, and how it all created a single sheet of woolen, warm fabric. It was far more complicated than he'd ever imagined. And while others around him studied for their projects, tested each other on different spells or attacks, or wrote essays on Potions and Charms lessons, his attention consistently drifted to the beautiful young girl who meticulously guided several hundred points into one solid object.

Ross had caught him staring at least five times, if not more. The first couple of times the Muggle-born wizard had merely given his closest friend a strange, confused look. Ignotus had flushed upon the realization that he was being so blatantly obvious about his feelings, and he'd returned to scribbling down notes on his project to avoid Ross's dark, narrowed eyes.

By the third time, Ross took it upon himself to question Ignotus about the course of his gaze, and after a few desperate seconds in which he tried (and failed) to find the right words, Ignotus had finally managed to explain that Master Godric had suggested he enlist Callisto's assistance with his project. At this, Ross had rolled his eyes and returned to his own work with a scowl resolutely fixed upon his features, as he still believed that Ignotus was studying a worthless subject.

Upon the fourth time, his friend had frowned without questioning, but on the fifth he'd demanded to know if Ignotus _fancied_ Callisto Stewart.

Ross was too close to the truth; so naturally, Ignotus lied and insisted he wasn't.

But it still didn't stop him from sneaking covert glances when he was supposed to be doing his studies, or even in class when he was supposed to be listening to the Founders' lectures.

The simple truth was, he had no idea _how_ to go about asking Callisto if she would consider assisting him in his endeavor. She was so quiet and studious herself that she hadn't seemed to notice his constant gaze (which was a minor relief, he supposed), and he knew she was working hard on her own project.

He certainly knew that he didn't want to confront her whilst everyone was in the common room, because then the other students of Godric Gryffindor would overhear his conversation and likely giggle at such an odd request. On the other hand, it was much more difficult than he'd imagined to get her on her own. Despite the fact that castle was huge, Callisto always seemed to be with her closest friend, Cantrella Dreux. If he stopped her while she was with Cantrella, it seemed to stand to reason that Cantrella would likely gossip to the other girls (because that was what girls seemed to do, after all), and before the evening was out, the entire school would know he was speaking privately with Callisto Stewart. It was only a small leap as to what they would be saying after _that_. He wasn't certain he could handle people whispering about him the way they did about Cadmus and Cearo, or even Antioch and Serpentina.

The entire conflict was so agonizing that he skipped dinner entirely one evening and trudged back up to the tower, desperately trying to think of some way to approach her without being ridiculed or talked over.

But to his surprise, when the portrait opened, he discovered that Callisto wasn't at dinner with everyone else either, and furthermore, she was the only person in the tower.

She was sitting at her loom as usual, the shuttle flying back and forth unheeded as she poured over a thick book. He watched as her slender finger ran lightly down the page as she skimmed the words, her head tilted to one side so that her long curls were falling over her arm. The fire guttered in the grate, sending an odd, dark light over her pretty features. Ignotus froze, watching her without breathing for a couple of seconds, as she shifted the heavy book on her lap and turned a page. The movement made the dim light shimmer off of her long brown hair, catching strands of rich auburn scattered throughout so that they seemed to shine like fire. Her brow furrowed as she continued to read, and she idly tucked a soft curl behind her ear before replacing her finger upon the page and following the text again.

Quite suddenly, his heart began to pound loud and hard against his ribs. Afraid that she might hear it, he quickly stepped forward, his footsteps muffled by the thick rugs on the stone floor. Still, she was apparently very absorbed, because she did not notice him until he was right beside her, and he had to cough slightly to get her attention.

Startled, Callisto jumped and nearly closed the book. However, when she saw who was standing next to her, her expression changed to a soft smile. "Ignotus! You frightened me, I fear!"

"I am sorry; I didn't mean to." Then, trying to think of something intellectual to say to make up for his blundering, he added nervously, "How is your research coming?"

"Fair. It could be better," she sighed as she reopened her book, "but the types of spells I seek to learn are difficult to find. Most of the books in our library do not cover such branches of magic, and –"

Surprised, he interrupted, "Healing spells? I would have thought the library would contain much information on such things."

Her expression became frustrated, if not a bit closed, and she turned her eyes to watch the shuttle. "Oh, the library does contain information on the _basic_healing arts. But I wish to learn how to counteract the effects of exceptionally Dark curses, and treat severe magical injuries sustained on the battlefield. Such spells are much more difficult to locate, because they are often self-created and therefore guarded jealously by those who patented them. Master Godric has offered to contact several witches and wizards whom have self-created such magic that will heal those who have been devastatingly injured. Then I must learn the spells myself."

He tried to consider why Callisto Stewart would have need to learn how to treat such horrible magical injuries, but could formulate no plausible reasons. He frowned slightly, decided not to ask, and instead murmured, "Such a task sounds extremely difficult."

Callisto nodded and looked back at the book she held. When Ignotus followed her gaze, he realized the text was written in Latin. He knew the language well enough, but upside-down, he could not make the words out at all, for it was minutely small and cramped. He wondered if the entire book was written thus, and was grateful the books he had selected were not so difficult.

"What of you?" she asked, bringing him out of these thoughts. "How goes your own research?"

He shifted, tearing his eyes away from the book. "I have exhausted all of the books in the library on invisibility, including research on other civilizations' information on the subject. But my project will be a daunting task, I fear." He glanced at the rapidly flying shuttle on the loom. Black and tan threads created a subtle pattern in the fabric, and the motion was almost blinding as they shifted and became one piece. How was he ever to learn this art?

"And what is your project?"

Biting his lip slightly, and still watching the threads on the loom, he said, "Have you ever heard of a beast called the Demiguise?"

She shook her head in the negative. This did not surprise him, for he had not expected her to know of such an animal; he had not until he had researched it, after all.

"It is a creature that lives in the Far East, but a gentle one," he explained. "In fact, it is so gentle and passive that it fears both predators and humans alike. Such an animal is in great need of an excellent defense, and so it has one – its very coat can become utterly invisible to everything. Apparently, only skilled wizards can track and capture the Demiguise, and that makes their pelts one of the most valued magical objects in our world. The pelts can be made into a cloak which would render the wearer invisible, and they are extremely rare and prized."

Her expression was unreadable, but after a moment, she said thoughtfully, "So then, you will make a cloak that will render you invisible for your project?"

Ignotus nodded nervously. "At the least, I intend to try. Master Godric has informed me that I would need to use extensive magic, however. The very, very few cloaks that have been made thus far, mostly by Chinese artists, will lose, or have lost, their effectiveness as the decades pass. Perhaps this is to ensure a constant demand…I don't know, and can only speculate. But to complete my challenge, my cloak will need to stand the ultimate test of time: it must last centuries instead of mere decades. And before I can begin the spell work, I must first make the cloak from the hair of a Demiguise pelt."

"And to make a cloak," she murmured, her eyes shifting towards the threads that were weaving themselves before her, "You will need a loom."

For a brief moment, Ignotus thought that she looked saddened by this realization, for her shoulders slumped. Unable to see her thus, he said quickly, "I know you are very busy yourself, Miss Stewart. It was Master Godric who suggested I ask for your assistance. If you could possibly teach me how to use a loom, I will weave my own cloak. I've no idea how to even use such an object… it looks complicated and confusing. However, if you do not have the time, then I will completely understand."

Her mouth turned up just slightly, though the expression in her eyes remained sad. "I can show you how to weave, Ignotus," she said. "The art is indeed very tedious and difficult, and you must keep that in mind if you are to try. I am nearly finished with this piece of fabric; once it is done, you may begin on a practice piece. You must first attempt the art with regular threads, naturally. Otherwise, you will fail when you attempt to weave the Demiguise hair."

Before he could thank her profusely, or ask questions about the art, she closed her book and placed it on the floor beside her chair, rose to her feet, and said, "Now is as good a time as any to begin, for you can watch as I finish this piece. I assume you will pay close attention." And she gave him a pretty smile that made him forget the sad expression she had worn only moments before.

"Of course," he promised, quickly drawing a chair up beside her.

He became so absorbed in learning as she carefully explained each part of the loom, each section of the apparatus, and how it all worked as a whole to create a bolt of cloth, that he did not even notice the other students returning from dinner, nor the smirks and nods that took place when all saw the youngest Peverell brother sitting a bit closer than necessary to the mysterious Callisto Stewart.

oOo

"Blast!"

Ignotus snarled and waved his wand at the shuttle; it immediately came to a clattering halt in a mess of tangled threads.

On the floor beside him, Callisto did not even look up from her book. She merely mused, "You were directing it too quickly, again. You must be patient, Ignotus. Weaving takes time."

"I know, but…!"

He glowered at the miniscule bit of cloth he had managed thus far, his temper struggling against his attempts to contain it. His work was incredibly feeble and insignificant when compared to the neat bolt of black and tan propped against the wall, and worse, it _looked_ such. Some of his threads did not match exactly, while others did not fit snugly against each other, allowing him to see little chinks of light through his work. He was extremely frustrated; for he had never had this sort of trouble with anything he tried his hand at. Even Potions, which he detested completely! But, then again, at Potions, he had at least been able to follow the directions and create the concoction set before him based on instruction. Weaving was entirely different, requiring more presence of mind. There was no set of precise directions, and it seemed that the cloth followed the desire of the weaver.

"Untangle the threads and begin again."

He could hear the amusement in Callisto's voice, and he flushed bright pink. Fingers clenched, he sullenly directed his wand at the knot of tangled red and gold threads. They were twisted worse than usual, it appeared. But then, ever since Callisto had let him behind her loom, knots seemed to be his lot in life.

Worse, she hardly bothered to look up at his work most of the time. Somehow, she could continue reading about healing spells, or do her Potions homework, or write essays, and yet always know _exactly_ what Ignotus had done wrong each time.

And he had _so_ been hoping that the process would go much faster than it was! The threads twisted and tangled worse as he jabbed his wand a bit harder than necessary at them in his anger. He still had spells to research, for he would need to imbibe his cloak with as much magic as possible, and he still needed to tap the "hidden magic" that Master Godric had so cryptically hinted at during their conversations. He had no idea how on earth he would manage _that_, when he didn't even know what this strange, hidden magic _was_. Godric had claimed it was the magic that moved the universe, but Ignotus's brain felt wrung out every time he even _tried_ to comprehend such a thing. Such magic was beyond any mortal, wasn't it?

The knot finally worked itself out, and he sighed heavily as he rearranged the threads properly. Then, scowling at his work, he began once more, though much more slowly this time, because he was sick and tired of making mistakes.

In truth, the loom was really teaching him much about himself rather than about the art of weaving, he'd decided. So far, he had learned that he was definitely not the most patient person in the world – a trait in his personality that his mother had often commented on with frustration, that his father had often become exasperated with him about, that Antioch had more than once requested he pay attention to and attempt to correct, and that Cadmus had rolled his eyes at whenever he had the chance.

Ignotus was also learning that perhaps he worked far too quickly on _everything_, from Defense to Charms to Shuntbumps. While his lack of patience had been pointed out to him countless times, he had never before considered that he worked too fast. But during the past week, each time he sat down at the loom, he found he was nearly destroying the threads, simply because he was working so fast that the knots formed almost instantly. If he was doing such shoddy work on the loom, simply weaving threads into fabric, what had he missed in working too fast on things that really counted? The very thought worried him terribly.

On the other hand, however, he had also learned that Callisto was infinitely more patient than he was. For one thing, she did not become angry at his repeated mistakes, his occasional swearing and oaths, nor his frustration at the tediousness of such a project. She merely corrected him in her gentle, unobtrusive way, and continued her own work. He had also started to notice that, during class, she was usually the last to turn in a written exam – not because she didn't finish timely, but because she re-read her work before handing it in. She also thought about her answers when asked a question by one of the Founders, and as such, her responses were well explained. Ignotus had caught himself blurting answers once or twice, and in shame, he had tried to correct his thoughtlessness by not being so determined to speak up.

So irritating was the entire process, and all that he was now being forced to think about, that, during the past week, he had rarely even felt the pleasant flip of his stomach whenever he looked at Callisto's beautiful, long hair with its auburn-brown waves and curls. He had also been neglecting his friends, though Ross stopped by occasionally as Ignotus struggled on the loom, usually to offer some jibe at Ignotus's expense, or to seriously ask how Ignotus was doing. He hadn't seen Cadmus or Antioch at all, and he hadn't been paying much attention to his regular lessons, because he was constantly thinking of new ways to approach the enormous difficulty of what he had selected to do.

The shuttle crept at a snail's pace across the threads, and Ignotus felt strange satisfaction at seeing it moving so ridiculously slow. But if that was what it would take, then so be it. He'd get the infernal threads into a single piece of fabric if it were the last thing he did.

Beside him, Callisto suddenly laughed. "_Merlin_, Ignotus! Faster than that, I'm afraid! If you move too slowly, you won't finish your test fabric, let alone the Demiguise pelt!"

He turned and frowned at her. "I do not understand! You make it move almost blindingly fast whenever you sit here, and despite that, you never get tangles in the threads! How is that?"

With a smug expression, she said, "Because I've been doing it much, much longer than you. I've been learning to weave since I was four years old, Ignotus. You started weaving but a week ago."

She was right, of course. Feeling sulky, he sighed and glared at the shuttle, mentally demanding that it behave for him this time, as he sped it up per Callisto's instruction.

Unfortunately, it did _not_ behave. Five minutes later, when he thought that perhaps he had _finally_ gotten the hang of it, it locked up in another fierce tangle of knots. Ignotus swore furiously at it – worse than usual, in fact – _just_ as the portrait opened and Godric Gryffindor entered the common room.

His master's mouth quirked into a smile as he caught the violent oath. "_Ah_, yes." He chuckled. "I see we still have a long way to go, Ignotus."

The other students scattered about the common room sniggered at this exchange, their eyes darting between their Founder and the youngest Peverell.

Ignotus's shoulders slumped and he had to stop himself from kicking Callisto's loom. "I am starting to feel that I've selected a hopeless challenge," he complained, glancing up to glare at the rest of his mates while waving his wand at the threads so sharply that the knot tightened instead of loosened.

Before he could swear again at his additional mistake, Callisto rose quickly to her feet and took over for him, gently moving the threads back to their original positions with careful practice and slow wand movements that made Ignotus's own attempt look even clumsier than before.

Godric, however, merely smiled as he looked at the bit of fabric his pupil had managed thus far, and he mused, "But you are doing better than when you first started."

"Ha. Only a little, and not nearly as well as I should be! If learning to weave takes up all of my time, then I cannot research the spells I will need to place upon the fabric itself!"

Thoughtfully, Callisto said, "Perhaps that is the problem. Your mind is elsewhere, thinking of spells to research. Perhaps you should focus more on weaving right now, and worry about the spells later, Ignotus."

Ignotus opened his mouth to argue, but Godric cut him off with a slightly sharp, scolding voice. "Miss Stewart is right, Ignotus. And it will do you no good to spar verbally with your teacher in this endeavor. Why not try closing your eyes and releasing all of your frustration, all of your worries and concerns, and simply focus directly on the task at hand? One thing at a time, you know. You have all winter to research spells."

Remembering again that he always worked too fast, and that someone was always reminding him of it – and, furthermore, that this was a prime example! – Ignotus merely nodded and sat back down at his chair, sulky that both a classmate and his Founder had rebuked him. And worse, because his temper was far too easily set off. They were only trying to help, after all.

"Before you resume your attempts," Godric went on, more cheerfully, "I bring you good tidings." He held out a neatly folded parchment. It had been sealed, but the wax was broken, indicating that Godric had already read the missive.

Ignotus took it curiously, wondering if it were from his mother. But upon opening it, he discovered it was from someone he had never heard of – a person named Narantsetseg. There was no surname, which seemed unusual. The writing was also difficult to make out; whoever had written the letter knew the language of the Britons well enough, but was clearly from another area of the world.

Master Godric seemed amused at watching Ignotus trying to decipher the sharp quill markings, and finally he said, "It took me some time to make it out, as well. So I shall tell you what it says; otherwise, we will be here all night. Narantsetseg is a Mongolian witch that one of my many contacts directed me to in your quest for a Demiguise pelt. She is one who seeks these creatures for their incredible hides."

Startled, Ignotus said, "She?"

His Founder laughed. "Really, Ignotus! Here at Hogwarts, there are two highly talented witches – the most incredible in all of Briton! – and you wonder that a woman could track the elusive Demiguise?"

"No, sir! I didn't mean…!"

"As I understand it, Narantsetseg is one of the most talented Demiguise hunters in all of her land. She brings in an average of one pelt every two years!"

It took a few seconds for this statement to sink in.

Then, it slowly did.

Like someone had punched him in the gut, and he had lost his breath for a few moments.

And for a few _more_ seconds, all he could do was open his mouth and stutter, his expression horrified.

Finally, what he was trying to say burst out from him in sheer disbelief and panic.

"_One_? One pelt every _two_ _years_?"

Merlin _help_ him – if a Demiguise pelt was so exceedingly rare, how on earth could he procure even _one_? He had known they weren't common, but… but _this_…

Godric's eyebrows lifted up his forehead. "Yes, most who make this their profession only bring in one pelt every five years, or so. Narantsetseg has a natural talent for what she does."

"But… How do these hunters _survive_? With only one pelt every _five years_? Do they have other professions in which to make their livelihood?" Ignotus cried.

Godric laughed. "Merlin, no! Of course not. Demiguise hunters devote themselves solely to this one task, and nothing more. It is an excruciatingly difficult life, for tracking one of these creatures takes months. The Demiguise does not live in packs or tribes, but rather as individuals, which makes them even harder to locate. Furthermore, it is suspected that the species is somewhat endangered, though to what extent, no one knows. Narantsetseg has given us a little additional information and I confess, I find it fascinating. The Demiguise only breeds once every twenty years, from the knowledge the Mongolians and Chinese have – which, unfortunately, is very, very little – so it could be wrong. But they are suspected to have only one offspring each time, and it takes some fifteen years for an infant to reach full maturity, if their calculations are correct. They are known for their excellence at Arithmancy and Astrology, so I assume they are fairly close to the truth. The witches and wizards who hunt these animals go through extensive training with a master to see them. Or rather, they're actually trained to look for the faint tracks, broken branches or bushes, and possibly unusual blimps in the air, which gives the Demiguise's location away. Still, to catch one takes years of practice and devotion."

"But," Ignotus pressed weakly, "If they only catch one every five years, how on earth do they survive?"

Master Godric's smile deepened to his eyes. "The price for even one pelt is so great that a person can survive for ten years, easily, and never have to lift a finger. But the training to hunt the animals is so tedious and difficult, and true masters – like Narantsetseg – will hunt for them regardless of their fortune. And they rarely take on an apprentice unless one shows aptitude far beyond normal magical training. It is a highly prized profession. There are currently only three Demiguise hunters in all of Mongolia and China combined."

A strange dread was filling Ignotus's chest, and after a moment, he finally whispered, "So then… If this is true, how much will it cost me to purchase such a pelt? Sir?"

"Twenty-seven thousand Galleons."

For a brief second, Ignotus felt his world slipping out from beneath him.

Godric saw his expression and said sternly, "That is Narantsetseg's price. And it is less than her colleagues. Xie Lu's price is twenty-eight thousand Galleons, and Chuluun's is thirty thousand."

Ignotus's throat felt dry and parched; he swallowed a couple of times as he tried desperately to justify spending such a huge fortune for his project. Callisto's masked expression did not help either – he couldn't tell what she was thinking, because her eyes were so blank. Did she believe him to be insane? He wouldn't be surprised. Was she repulsed that he would dare to spend such gold on a mere school project? He couldn't bear _that_ thought. Or did she not have any opinion on the matter, which was even worse? He felt clammy; he didn't want her to think ill of him.

Godric's voice abruptly brought Ignotus from his thoughts of Callisto.

"What is most important," he said sharply, "is the fact that Narantsetseg has a pelt currently in her possession for purchase; the other hunters do not. So I'm afraid your choice is extremely limited. She also requires an answer quickly. Demiguise pelts rarely remain in her possession for more than a couple of weeks. Many desire such a prize. However, because the situation in Mongolia and China is, at present, so dangerous, with many wizards fighting against each other, she has agreed to sell it to you, as her usual buyers are currently thoroughly involved in the war and she does not wish to deal with either of them."

Ignotus turned to stare hopelessly at the threads on the loom – his feeble, silly attempt to create a piece of fabric – and wondered if he would even be able to weave the Demiguise pelt once he had it. Or would he have lost a huge portion of his fortune for absolutely nothing? His stomach writhed into knots at the very thought.

And as though Godric had read his mind, the man quietly said, "If you desire, I will allow you to change your project, Ignotus. It is a huge sum for a single object, and the challenge before you is exceedingly difficult."

Unbidden, the thought rose to his mind that, if he were to change his challenge and give up so easily, he would be branded a coward. He could just imagine Cadmus's sneering remarks if his brother found out he had changed his project at this point in the game, or Antioch's disappointment. He gritted his teeth. He would _not_ be called a coward.

Straightening his back and steeling his expression, Ignotus said firmly, "No, sir. I will not change my project. Please send a response to Narantsetseg informing her that I will purchase the pelt. And if you will excuse me, I will go directly to the owlery and send a letter to the goblins as well, reserving the amount for this woman, so that she may withdraw it directly."

But Godric shook his head and frowned slightly. "Unfortunately, the goblins will not accept a letter for so large an amount. You will have to visit them in person; otherwise, they will believe it an attempt at theft. And it would be exceedingly unwise to anger the goblins _or_ Narantsetseg. I will accompany you tomorrow, after classes, to the River Thames. We will Apparate there and back; it will be much faster."

Ignotus forced himself to nod in response.

"Now, I will leave you to your work. Remember – patience is the key to this puzzle. And, Miss Stewart, whilst I am here, will you allow me to inquire how your own research is progressing?"

The response was the same as it had been to Ignotus, only a bit more detailed.

"Fair, sir. I have heard from Pegasus Harlequet. He is willing to divulge his variation of the Blood Replenishing Spell in exchange for my silence. I will be allowed to use it if necessary, but I cannot tell anyone the secret. He would prefer that I make an Unbreakable Vow to seal the agreement, but I clearly do not wish to do _that_. I was hoping you would speak to him on my behalf to see if he would part with the information for a less drastic course of action. It is frustrating, but not unexpected."

Godric's eyes flashed, and he said quietly, "I will contact him personally to discuss the matter. Let me know if he presents any other, unforeseen difficulties. And keep up the good work, both of you."

Ignotus found he could not nod in response this time, and instead glanced back at the loom. His work looked far from good, and the strange, unpleasant, wriggling, worming sensation was winding its way from his stomach to his throat. He wondered if he would vomit.

For he had just spent twenty-seven thousand Galleons – a huge portion of his inheritance – on a Demiguise pelt that he wasn't even certain he could weave into a cloak.

oOo

The exchange at the River Thames went as well as could be expected – Ignotus had never cared much for goblins, and their utter indifference was unnerving. But the transfer was arranged without much problem, and would take place the following week; twenty-seven thousand Galleons from Ignotus Peverell's vault miles beneath the surface of the earth would be sent to Mongolia's own wizarding banking service for Narantsetseg to receive.

The worst part about the whole thing was that, inevitably, Cadmus and Antioch discovered what he had done.

But, to Ignotus's surprise, Antioch did not seem overly concerned about the enormous price his brother had paid to continue his challenge; in fact, he actually agreed to help Ignotus invest his remaining fortune over Yule, so that what was left would garner more interest and quickly rebuild itself. He was not nearly as concerned that it would continue to dwindle (as Ignotus was), and he even vaguely mentioned something about having leverage to use against the goblins to insure that Ignotus's vault would increase in size at a proper rate. Ignotus did not dare ask how Antioch would have such incredible leverage; he rather didn't want to know. His oldest brother knew many people in many places, but to force the goblins to do something against their will required a very underhanded nature.

Cadmus, on the other hand, was appalled at what Ignotus had done, and made no secret about the fact that he thought his younger brother had lost his mind. He laughed at the idea of Antioch convincing the goblins to increase the interest on Ignotus's account, and seemed amused at the idea of his younger brother becoming penniless.

Meanwhile, Yule was drawing nearer and nearer, and Ignotus had _finally_managed to stop fretting over spell work, and was instead focusing all of his efforts into weaving fabric and learning the skills necessary to complete the next step of his challenge.

At least he was getting _better_ at weaving, which was promising. Callisto had complimented him several times, indicating the portions of his test fabric that were exceptional, while giving him advice on the parts that were shoddier than the rest. He forced himself to humbly accept the advice – after all, she had more experience and knew all the secrets of weaving – and in his acceptance of her teachings, he found he was becoming slightly more patient, it seemed.

The week before Christmas, he was able to finish his test fabric completely, and four entire days had passed without the first tangled knot in the fabric. Callisto was ecstatic that he had managed to succeed in such a short amount of time, and reminded him that he must not get impatient with the Demiguise pelt once he received it.

He had wondered, many times, how Narantsetseg would send the pelt – surely something so ridiculously expensive would be brought to him in person. But Godric had assured him that he need not worry, for he intended to meet Narantsetseg and obtain the pelt himself. Ignotus could do nothing more than trust his Founder and wait.

Callisto sternly reminded him that he had other things to worry about, anyways. Though he had successfully completed his test fabric, he would need to continue his practice of weaving during the holiday. He promised he would, for there were looms at Peverell Fortress, and she further informed him that she fully intended on testing him once he returned for winter term. He would need to show her that he could weave an entire fabric without mistakes, excessive knots and tangles, or shoddy workmanship before he started on the Demiguise pelt, and she admitted that the short length of time in which he had been forced to learn the trade was against him. She also stated that, if she did _not_ give him such a goal to work towards, he would spend the entire holiday reading up on spells instead of mastering that which he needed to master first.

Her expression had been so fierce and stern that Ignotus had been unable to do anything but sheepishly promise that he would be prepared to meet her challenge upon his return to Hogwarts.

He wished he would have time to review invisibility spells, though. He knew that his brothers had already started on their projects – Antioch had taken an evening to travel with Ollivander to some unknown part of the land just as the first snow was falling, though no one but Salazar and Serpentina seemed to have been privy to exactly where he had gone. And neither had planned to reveal their knowledge, either. Cadmus had actually had the audacity to demand that Serpentina divulge the information, but she had merely wrinkled her lip in disgust and sneered haughtily at him that, if Antioch had wished for Cadmus to know, he would have told his brother himself.

Antioch never did tell Cadmus, but he did tell Ignotus of his venture a few days after his return. He had traveled to the north, to a desolate wizarding necropolis that housed the dead of the Peverell clan from the previous eight centuries. Ignotus had never been there himself, having absolutely no desire to see the cracked and moss-covered gravestones and vaults. But Antioch had explained, briefly, that all wands were created from woods that had special magic in their own right. Apparently, _where_ each wand-wood tree grew had a great deal to do with how a wand made from its wood _behaved_ – Ignotus's own wand (according to the information Antioch had obtained from Ollivander, who had made all three brothers' wands when they turned ten years of age) had been created from a solitary oak tree in the middle of a desolate moor. Oak,Antioch had explained, was typically a stubborn, heavy wood, and Ignotus's wand was even more so than other oak wands, because of the wand-tree's location. It had grown strong and sturdy in a harsh place, all alone, and therefore, it was slightly cantankerous. And because Ignotus himself was so stubborn, the wand and the wielder were a perfect match.

Ignotus had listened, for the most part, in stunned surprise. He had never considered that such time and thought went into wand making, but when Antioch had explained it, it made perfect sense. Wands were created from specific trees and cores, and the combination would eventually match itself to the perfect wizard or witch. He wondered if this were the sort of magic his Founder had tried to explain – something beyond what they normally learned – and decided he would ask Godric about it later.

Antioch, however, had used this unusual knowledge to select a tree in the very graveyard where their ancestors rested – a twisted, gnarled, ancient Ellhorn tree whose roots had cracked the graves and surrounding ground terribly. Ignotus thought it quite morbid that Antioch should select such a tree, even if his brother had explained that this tree would create a wand completely engrained with death, the ultimate power that overcame all humans in the end.

Ignotus had refrained from commenting that he was starting to wonder if his eldest brother was as insane as the middle.

For Cadmus was definitely insane – and all of Hogwarts had secretly been whispering about it for the past few weeks. Cearo had left for Christmas earlier than the rest of the students, because she hadn't been feeling well and felt it would be best to return to her home and rest, and most everyone agreed that she was suffering from a broken heart, because Cadmus had been ignoring her in favor of his challenge. He had supposedly finished studying about Reverse Spell Effects, though he told no one of what his research had uncovered. According to the students of Mistress Rowena, he could be seen in various places, testing certain spells. And while in their tower, it was claimed that he was always turning a small black stone over and over in his fingers, prodding it with his wand and muttering to it.

He was mad, the students of Ravenclaw believed.

Ignotus had asked Antioch about the strange black stone that others claimed he possessed, but Antioch had no knowledge of it at all. Nor would it do any good to ask Cadmus directly; he wasn't exactly on speaking terms with either of his brothers at the moment, ever since Antioch had rebuked him on the grounds. It was all very vexing, but Ignotus tried desperately not to think on it, because he had more important things to worry about. And besides, Antioch claimed it was his task to care for his brothers, not Ignotus's.

He was almost grateful when the holidays finally arrived, for the hustle and bustle of packing his truck and having one of the house elves magic it back to Peverell Fortress, and saying goodbye to all of his friends, at least took his mind briefly off of Cadmus.

He clasped hands with all of the young men of the tower as they gathered their things to depart; some were meeting siblings at the steps of the castle and would Apparate just beyond the protective boundaries, while a few of the younger students would meet a parent or a steward in Hogsmeade to travel back to their castles and manors and cottages. Ross wished him a good holiday, for he was leaving to meet his foster parents within the next hour, and on his way out of the portrait Cantrella passed him and offered her tidings for a pleasant Christmas in her haughty way.

However, when Ignotus arrived at the marble staircase, he met the one person he was truly hoping to meet before leaving: Callisto. She was on her way up the marble stairs, and she paused at the landing to wish him a Merry Christmas, while also reminding him to practice his weaving during the break. The brief moment in which she touched his hand left him with the wonderful sensation of goose bumps skating up his arm, and he barely managed to wish her a happy Christmas as well. Then, before he quite realized it, she had risen to her toes and brushed parched lips quickly to his cheek.

Utterly stunned, it was several moments before he realized she had said goodbye and left him standing there like a statue. Touching his cheek to see if it might actually burn his fingertips, he quickly turned and scanned the corridor. She was now a floor above, walking along the passage to another set of stairs that would take her away from the moving staircases in the center of the castle and off towards Gryffindor's Tower. He started after her, determined to request a _real_ goodbye kiss – only to have Cadmus round the corner unexpectedly, grab his arm, and snarl that he needed to be outside already and to stop _dawdling_, for Merlin's sake!

Furious, and under protest, Ignotus allowed Cadmus to drag him down to the entrance hall. Just before he was thrust unceremoniously out of the oak doors, he glanced up at the banisters three floors above and saw Callisto leaning against the railing. She smiled shyly and waved her fingers at him, and he quickly waved back, knowing he must look a complete sop while he did.

He didn't have any time to reflect, however. Cadmus shoved him out into the cold and they glared at each other all the way down the steps and the sweeping lawns. However, while they crossed the grounds, Ignotus's anger at his brother faded when he suddenly realized that Callisto had not been wearing a cloak, nor did she look ready to depart. His brow furrowed in confusion. She had once told him that she lived with her uncle during the holidays; he wondered if she was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, however. He couldn't imagine that she would be, because the Founders usually did not stay at the castle during breaks themselves. Perhaps her uncle was meeting her later than other guardians and parents were meeting their children, though.

It was only once that they were outside the protective spells that surrounded the castle that Ignotus forced himself to focus. He would need all of his faculties about him to Apparate to Peverell Fortress, for it would not do to splinch himself.

Antioch was waiting on the trail that led to Hogsmeade, and as soon as Cadmus and Ignotus came within view, he glanced at both of his younger brothers, his expression stern and calculating. Cadmus stopped and glared back, and Ignotus shifted his cloak closer about him.

Satisfied that he had their attention, the eldest brother nodded once, and Ignotus took a deep breath before he twisted into the suffocating compression of Apparation.

When the ringing in his ears ceased and he opened his eyes, the gigantic castle he called home towered above him, some five hundred feet away, flying the huge Peverell standard of black embossed with a gold coat of arms – a sword vertical over a shield, the point reaching towards the sky. Snowflakes were scattered on the breeze, and he sighed softly.

He was home for Christmas.


	8. Chapter 8 - Yule

**The Last Enemy**

**Chapter Eight - Yule**

She was standing beside his bed, her long hair around her shoulders, her breasts pert and just big enough to fill his hands perfectly. He swallowed as she stepped forward, coming to kneel on the thick mattress beside him. She bent closer until her lips brushed his, teasing his mouth open. Their touching quickly became warm and eager; he couldn't keep his hands to himself and hastily slid his sweaty palms up the sides of her body, over her ribs and then to the soft mounds that swelled into his grip. She moaned and he took the opportunity to glide his tongue along hers, tasting…

It was too much. The sensation of her hovering over him, the idea of watching her drive herself onto him, the very thought of her wet body quivering as she came around him…

The stickiness woke him from the dream. Ignotus suddenly realized he had bucked from the mattress and had come in the heavy quilts. Flushing crimson and attempting to orientate himself, he made a grab for his wand, which was on the table beside his bed, only to send it clattering to the floor.

Swearing furiously, he struggled from the hot, wet bedding and snatched it from the flagstones, then proceeded to clean himself and his mess.

_Bloody brilliant_, he thought bitterly. He had been home all of one week, and already Callisto's absence in his life was wearing on his mentality.

Of course, it wasn't just his thoughts about Callisto. Nothing had gone right since their return, it seemed. For starters, all hell had broken loose just two days after the three brothers had arrived home: Cearo Raedwald had Apparated outside of the fortress, before proceeding to stumble through the snow towards the huge iron and oak doors. The steward had admitted her, though grudgingly, as one never knew who was a friend or foe these days. She had arrived just as dinner was taking place, and upon her entrance, Cadmus had dropped his knife to his plate and knocked his goblet of wine over in his haste to rise to greet her.

Only, the first words out of his mouth weren't very welcoming, and as a natural result, Cearo had burst into blubbering tears at his harshness.

This, of _course_, had set Antioch's temper off, and there was a full minute of shouting before Quilla Peverell managed to silence her two eldest sons and demand answers.

Cadmus had immediately fallen silent, his face flushing a dull red, while Antioch resolutely refused to say anything additional unless Cadmus admitted the truth to his mother.

And, in the end, the answers came from Cearo, who – to Ignotus's shock – admitted that she was with Cadmus's child, and that her father had disowned her for this error in her judgment. She had been coldly ordered away from Raedwald Castle and informed that she was never to return.

It became quite apparent that both Antioch and Cadmus had known of the news already; or, at least, they didn't appear stunned when she confessed. Quilla recovered much faster than her youngest son (who could only gape at his middle brother), and she began ordering a couple of house elves to prepare a room and a bath for the girl, and requesting the steward to fetch a healer to give an educated opinion of Cearo's condition.

But despite these courteous formalities, Quilla Peverell had rounded on Cadmus the moment Cearo and the other servants had left the room (Cearo still in tears, of course), demanding to know why he had not been more careful, and how he had not thought to ask the girl if she had cast a contraceptive charm before he had sex with her. And when he sullenly blamed Cearo for the entire problem, Ignotus had winced at the resulting eruption.

Leaving the table had, most unfortunately, not been an option, no matter how much he wished to escape the room. He could only keep his eyes diverted upon his half-eaten dinner, though the sight of his food made him even more nauseated.

In the end, Cadmus was given an ultimatum – to take responsibility for his actions, or to leave Peverell Fortress _with_ Cearo, and never return.

The tense silence that followed Quilla's statement had been so thick and oppressing that Ignotus wondered if they would all suffocate before Cadmus answered. But, finally, the middle brother muttered that he did not wish to be disowned as his lover had been, and that he would accept partial responsibility for what had happened if Cearo accepted half of the blame as well. Quilla was satisfied enough with this response, and ordered him to tend to the girl before he broke her heart, and he left the dining hall with hunched shoulders.

She had then sat down at the head of the table, looking weary and exhausted. It struck Ignotus how old she appeared. When had she grown old? His mother had always seemed so young and full of life, always laughing and smiling. An oppressing sense of dread filled him, but he said nothing, and waited silently until she finally roused herself, gave him a wan smile, and advised him that if he wished to retire to his chambers or the parlor for the evening, she would more than understand.

He had risen carefully, trying not to seem too quick and hasty about the whole thing, and bid his mother and Antioch good night.

The next day had started out quite rough, which was really no surprise. On the upside, Cearo was not in tears when she came down to breakfast with Cadmus, though both were very quiet and only answered in monotone syllables when Quilla inquired of their health. Antioch said absolutely nothing, and Ignotus was grateful to finish eating, for it enabled him to escape to the servants' quarters of Peverell Fortress, which was where he had been spending most of his time since his return for Yule. Callisto's challenge was proving difficult, but he was glad of it, because it was a distraction. Hidden away for hours at a time in the deepest recesses of Peverell Fortress, Ignotus had diligently set about to weave at least one length of fabric on one of the house elves' looms, if not two, if he could manage it.

There were good and bad points to this decision. After all, there was plenty of wool to be woven, and several looms to work upon. The room was in the bowels of the castle, where his mother and brothers rarely ventured, and he was left alone for the majority of the time. He could weave in peace and focus entirely upon his task, without distractions.

However, he probably shouldn't have enlisted the help of the house elves. He had requested they not tell anyone what he was doing, and in their bobbing servitude, they had suggested he speak to an elf named Mippy for advice, should he so desire it, for she was the best at weaving in the Fortress. Mippy turned out to be an ancient, wrinkled house elf that had smiled toothlessly when he'd asked her to be completely and openly honest with him about his skill. She had taken the order to heart and proceeded to inform him, every five minutes, of his precise mistakes and what he should do to rectify them, and he was certain that if he weren't one of her masters, she'd have struck him across the knuckles with a birch rod whenever she felt his attempts were too shoddy.

But her hovering presence served to make him more determined to weave the absolute best he could, and he knew that without Mippy, he likely wouldn't have focused nearly as closely as he needed to on the minor, yet important details. He was considering her presence at Hogwarts once he returned, because she would make certain he completed his challenge perfectly, but he knew he could not – such would be too close to cheating, and he would do this on his own, as he had promised Godric.

In the evenings, he devoted his time to researching various invisibility spells, and making notes on which would be best to apply to the cloak as he wove it. His notes were becoming as complex and organized as Antioch's had been, and he rather felt that Callisto would be proud of his time management – he had certainly made better use of it since arriving home than he had when he'd been at school in Gryffindor's Tower, distracted by the girl he was in love with.

Studying in the evenings had quickly become a habit for everyone, actually; for more often than not all three brothers were cloistered in the library, and usually close to the fireplace for warmth. There were the occasional glances of irritation between them, each believing their challenge was better than the others', but it was less frequent after Christmas passed. Quilla also spent most of her evenings there, reading or writing letters, and Cearo had humbly claimed a chair in a corner so she could continue her work as well, the slight bump on her stomach visible now through her gowns.

The benefit of Cearo's constant presence was greater than Ignotus had previously thought. He had expected Cadmus to be more sullen and surly then ever, but after a few days, it proved to be exactly the opposite – somehow, Cearo and the unborn child calmed the middle Peverell brother's temper and paranoia in a way that Cearo herself had been unable to do alone, prior to the holidays. More than once Ignotus had noticed his middle brother gazing distantly into the fire, his expression not of anger, but of thoughtfulness or sadness. He fervently hoped that this change would continue for the better and that Cadmus's demeanor would improve.

It certainly seemed to. For, towards the end of the holidays, Cadmus actually deemed to speak to Antioch and Ignotus about their projects, and much more cordially than he'd done during the last few weeks.

The light within the study was dim, as the hour was quite late. All three brothers were reading; Ignotus was sitting near the fire, reading about various spells he would need to master once he completed his cloak, while Cadmus had claimed the table, though he did not seem to be as intent on his research as he had on previous evenings. Antioch was ignoring both by sitting in a far corner, his quill scratching away on his parchment.

It was probably time for bed, Ignotus thought. His vision was starting to blur and he had read the same passage four times without absorbing any of the text. A yawn crept upon him and he was unable to stifle it. So, stretching slightly, he closed his book and rose. But before he could turn to leave, Cadmus glanced up.

"Ignotus, wait."

Wary, Ignotus paused. "I am exhausted, Cadmus, so if you will please excuse me –"

"Yes, I understand. Your challenge is perhaps the most difficult of all of ours." There was something apologetic in his voice, and his eyes seemed slightly kinder than they had of late. "But pray, wait a moment all the same." He turned then, and added, "Antioch, I should like your opinion as well as Ignotus's. Would you be willing to give me a moment of your time as well?"

Antioch's quill stopped abruptly, and the eldest brother looked up and frowned. After a long moment, he coolly asked, "Regarding?"

"A mere idea I formulated, shortly after Cearo arrived. I should like to see it become a reality. But I will need the help of my brothers."

Cautiously, Ignotus made his way towards Cadmus's table, as did Antioch. The parchment before the middle brother was full of scribbled notes and sketches.

"I have not been very understanding of your projects," he started, glancing from one to the other. And, when Antioch immediately opened his mouth to argue, Cadmus held his hand up and added, "I should like to apologize to both of you for my lack of courtesy. Cearo has, unwittingly, brought such behavior to my notice. Will you accept my apologies?"

Not wishing the tenseness to continue, Ignotus quickly said, "Of course."

Antioch twitched, but finally stated dryly, "If you wish."

"Thank you." Cadmus inclined his head. "And now, may I ask your opinions? As brothers, and skilled wizards." He pushed the parchment forward. "I am currently unraveling spells regarding Reverse Effects in magic. I know that you, Antioch, believe I am a fool for such study. However, my work is progressing with very interesting twists, and I believe I will crack the mystery of reversing Death very soon. I will not bore you with particulars, but I am creating my own spells, using the magical origins of spells such as Priori Incantatem."

He opened his hand then, and dropped a small, black stone upon the parchments. It gleamed in the firelight, innocent and yet…not, somehow.

"What is that?" Ignotus asked warily, recognizing the stone as the one the students of Ravenclaw had claimed his brother possessed. The one they said Cadmus talked to constantly.

"This? After father's body was pulled from me last summer, this was what remained in my hand. It was the last thing father touched before death. It is merely a stone. It contains no magical powers or abilities." He paused, and then added with some hesitancy, "Yet."

"Yet?" Antioch's expression was dark.

"Yes. Yet," Cadmus repeated patiently. "I intend to infuse my final spells upon this stone, once perfected. Once I have done that, the stone will act as the catalyst to bring the dead back to this plane of existence. I know you disagree,Antioch. But I believe I can do it. I am so close."

Antioch's response sounded a bit forced. "I will see it when you accomplish it, then," he said.

"But, despite _your_ doubts in my abilities, it has set me to thinking." Cadmus rose from his seat, coming to eye level with his brothers. "Are we not all attempting to conquer Death, in some form and fashion? I first wondered so during the previous round table discussion at Hogwarts, but now I know it for certain. This past week, I have given more attention to both of you as you study. Antioch. You, for example, are attempting to create a wand that will defeat Death by being the most powerful wand on earth. Ignotus, you are creating a cloak that will render the wearer completely and utterly invisible. If you have not thought of it already, such a cloak would protect you in battle, for if you place the spells upon it correctly (just as I will need to place my spells upon this stone correctly) there will be no way to detect your presence. These three objects, therefore, are crucially connected, I believe."

"They are projects for our Founders," Antioch said slowly. "Admittedly, I will use mine for its other intended purpose once I leave Hogwarts, but…"

"But," Cadmus cut him off, quite serious, "I will use mine for both purposes, as well. And you, Ignotus?"

With both of his brothers looking at him curiously, he swallowed and shrugged. "I had only intended on making the cloak for the project, Cadmus. I had not thought on it any further, I confess."

"You truly only spent that much gold, just to earn a mark?"

"No! I mean… I meant…"

He trailed off, suddenly uncertain. Had he _really_ only intended to spend an obscene amount of gold to obtain the necessary object to complete his project? But…why had he chosen to study invisibility in the first place?

_Because you are afraid of Death_, the small voice in the back of his head chided._Cadmus _is_ right. You have an ulterior motive, just as your brothers do. Cadmus is making the stone to bring back your father, but it will serve for the project, too. Antioch is making a wand to defeat Athol, but it will also serve for the project. And you are making the cloak as a tactic for a battle that you have yet to compete in – a battle that you may _never _compete in! To avoid Death, because you fear Death. But it is also serving the dual purpose of obtaining your project's mark, is it not?_

Cadmus smiled – a bit wickedly, though kindly, too, somehow. "You see?" he murmured. "We are all attempting to defeat Death in some way, Ignotus. Even you."

Guilty and suddenly ashamed, Ignotus whispered, "Perhaps so, but I fail to see what opinion you desire from us, Cadmus."

"Only this: _three_ is a significantly magical number. What if these three objects, perfectly designed to defeat Death in their own ways, individually, were combined together? What magic would be possible, _then_?"

There was a long, heavy pause. And then, to Ignotus's shock (and horror), Antioch looked mildly _interested_.

"An intriguing idea," the eldest mused. "A person who wields a stone that can raise the dead, a wand that can defeat all enemies, and a cloak that can shield the wearer from Death's notice? Yes, I see your point. Combined, such an idea would form an interesting alliance. But they are only in the form of theory at present, Cadmus. We are all still working towards our final goals."

"I believe we will each succeed," Cadmus said boldly. "I have faith in my brothers. Do you also have faith in me? Because, if we succeed, we will create such _hallowed_ objects – objects that are capable of so much more together than apart. Hallowed, because they shall defeat Death, together."

"Hallows," Antioch mused. He gazed at Cadmus's strange sketches, which showed circles and lines and triangles. "It is an interesting concept. But only once we have completed them separately, shall we be able to determine if they are any use _together_."

"I think they will be." Cadmus sat back down and dipped his quill into the bottle of ink before him. With an ease swipe, he drew a circle. "A stone," he murmured, "that will raise the dead." The quill slashed the middle of the circle. "A wand that will destroy Death."

To Ignotus's surprise, a forbidden sort of excitement was replacing the shame and guilt as he watched his brother sketch a triangle around the circle. But still, the excitement was almost as bad as the shame, somehow. Perhaps because, deep down, it was a frightening concept. Surely it wasn't right…

"A cloak, that will render the wearer invisible, thus protect him from his own Death." Cadmus looked up, his brown eyes glittering in the firelight.

Antioch was staring, transfixed, at the parchment. "Hallows of Death," he murmured, his head tilted slightly as he considered the idea.

Ignotus stared, too. It was oddly compelling, this strange idea of _hallows_, and he found that he was also transfixed. What would be possible, he thought, if they not only succeeded in creating their objects separately, but could actually use them _together_?

Suddenly, the possibilities seemed…endless.

oOo

Gasping, Callisto awoke with a start and arched away from the heavy blankets, her body coated in a fine, thin sheen of sweat.

She had been dreaming.

Again.

It took a few moments, but her heart rate slowly returned to normal, helped by the fact that she kicked the bedding free of her legs and body upon waking up. Furiously, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to forget – yet completely unable to.

_Ignotus_. Always Ignotus.

Ignotus's firm hands, caressing her thighs and kneading her breasts. Ignotus's warm mouth, capturing her own and teasing her tongue through her lips to touch his. Ignotus's body, claiming hers and taking her over the edge until she climaxed in her sleep, only to wake and discover she was alone and empty, and that her coarse nightshift was damp and sticky.

It wasn't that she didn't like Ignotus. On the contrary – there was no other boy she could remotely find herself interested in. Ever since she'd first met him, at the age of eleven, she had always loved his tousled black hair, his boyish smile, and the strong lines of his face that had grown sharper and less childish as he grew older. And during the past two years, those same strong lines had filled out into the rest of his body and he'd grown taller, more attractive. It was absolute torture to be near him, for she wanted so much more than friendship. Keeping her feelings concealed was difficult and depressing.

And then, he'd asked her to teach him how to weave, so that he could complete his project. And she had agreed, though her heart had stung painfully at the thought that Ignotus only needed her for something other than a lover. Which meant that, inevitably, she would agonize over whether he might or might _not_love her, and she refused to use her skills at Legilimency to pry into his thoughts and find the truth. Such tactics were wrong, and she would much prefer him to tell her himself if he felt anything more than a platonic connection towards her. But waiting on him was so bloody difficult.

Sighing heavily, she crawled out of the low trestle bed and slipped out of the damp length of fabric that she had slept in. It was very early in the morning – still dark out – but there was no way to return to sleep. Besides, she would need to be up soon, anyways.

She performed a simple yet effective cleaning charm on herself, before dressing in a long gown of black, and then she pulled her long, slightly mused hair back at the nape of her neck with a black ribbon. There was work to do today, and she would need to be ready when her uncle desired to leave.

After removing the charms from her bedchamber door, she headed down the narrow corridor and into the cottage's small kitchen, only to discover that her uncle was already awake and sitting at the scrubbed wooden table with a flagon of spiced ale and a hunk of bread.

He smiled gently when she entered the room, but said nothing, and Callisto was surprised to see that he had already prepared breakfast for her as well. She sat down and ate her warm porridge in grateful silence, her thoughts drifting from her wonderful, erotic dreams to more pressing issues: the somber tasks ahead for the day.

As if he had read her thoughts (and perhaps he had), her uncle said quietly, "You do not have to come with me today, Callisto."

She shook her head mutely and continued eating. Of course she would go with him today. She always went with him. She always had and she always would. She had accepted this role in her life when her parents had been killed, and she would not shirk from it now. She went everywhere with her uncle; she dreaded the idea of being left behind as much as she dreaded the idea of him being without her, when he could possibly use her help. She was not as skilled as he was, but she was a talented fighter in her own right, thanks to his tutelage.

He said nothing in response to her stubbornness, but turned his eyes back to his bread, his expression thoughtful and yet sad.

As soon as she was finished, and had cleaned the dishes and sent them flying back to their cupboards with a sweeping move of her wand, her uncle rose and fastened on a long traveling cloak. Callisto did the same, and they gathered up two leather satchels waiting by the door. They were not heavy, for they had been bewitched to remain light, but they contained a precious cargo. And, together, the two figures – the tall, well-built man and the slender girl, stepped into the cold, frosty darkness that precedes dawn.

Callisto's uncle offered her his arm, and she took it. It wasn't that she couldn't Apparate on her own (for he had taught her the previous summer), but she was uncertain where they were Apparating _to_, and it was better to allow him to take her alongside than trying to guess herself, and accidentally ending up far from where she should.

She felt him twist, and the awful compression that followed was dizzying and suffocating. Fortunately, within seconds, she felt her feet sinking into an inch of snow beneath a huge tree in a dark forest, and the compression was gone.

Glancing about warily, Callisto took in her new surroundings. It was a thick forest, so the snow was sparse. But the denseness made the darkness complete, and more than a bit eerie. She lit her wand the moment she released her uncle's arm, and when he began to walk, she followed, keeping just to his left and slightly behind him.

Several twists and turns later, a small, thatched cottage came into view.

She had briefly thought that such a place as this was a gloomy one to live in, when the door burst open and a buxom woman hurried out. The lady seemed to know who was approaching, for she called out in relief, "_Callisto_! Oh, dearest, it's been moons since I last saw you!"

Suddenly caught in a bone-crushing embrace, Callisto felt warmth spread to her fingertips and toes. She quickly kissed the woman's cheek and murmured, "It is good to see you, Lady Prewett."

"Come inside, come inside!" Ethne Prewett flushed and gestured to the door. She was a charming, plump hostess, and always determined to please her guests. Her cheeks turned a deeper, merrier pink as she closed and locked the door the moment all were within, sealing it with several complex charms for safety's sake.

The instant warmth of the deep fire in the hearth was heavenly, as was the very life in the cottage, all of it so drastically different from the dismal surroundings outside. Callisto had always felt a bit sorry for the Prewetts, who were forced to move frequently and live in secrecy due to the line of work they were involved in, but this place seemed much nicer than the last, at least. The last had been a grimy hovel on the edge of a bog, and she had loathed it as much as Ethne had.

The rest of the family was gathered in the main room, and all had looked up the moment Callisto and her uncle had entered.

There was a tall, attractive young man in his mid-twenties, who was sitting at a gnarled, polished wooden table in a corner, making notes on a piece of parchment by the light of a brightly burning candle, his long, dark red hair pulled back with a leather tie. Another young man of about nineteen was sitting beside the fire, polishing a glittering, silver broadsword that shone a bright, flaming orange (almost as bright as his shaggy, tousled hair, which was much more vivid than his brother's) by the flickering light. The third man, tall and burly and strong, with coppery hair and beard, strode forward and clasped hands with Callisto's uncle the moment the door had been sealed.

"We were wondering if we would see you before the New Year," he said heartily. "I am glad you have come."

Callisto's uncle smiled wearily in return. "We would not leave you stranded here, Leo. You know we would not."

Leo Prewett laughed. "Well, even if you had, we would have proceeded with our plans just the same. But these," he took one of the leather sacks, "will help greatly. Come in; come in! You must warm yourselves. I've never been in a place as cold as this blasted forest, I confess."

"We cannot stay long, for we have several others to visit. But I will hear of your plans before taking our leave."

"Understandable." Leo gestured towards a chair and stool by the fire.

His younger son, Flann, shifted backwards on his heels to make more room for their guests, while flashing a cheerful, mischievous smile in Callisto's direction. "Miss Stewart," he began cheekily, "If I may say so, you grow more beautiful each time I see you, and –"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Do be quiet," his father said, with a mixture of irritation and good humor. "Callisto can certainly do better than _you_, you young brigand! Polish that sword, for you did not do so properly last time you used it and your brother had to clean it with magic instead!"

"For the love of Merlin's fifth mistress!" Flann complained. "Is that any way to speak of your son?"

"Of _you_," Leo said dryly, yet at the same time with a fond smile. "Llewelyn, on the other hand, I will always speak highly of."

Llewelyn, still sitting quietly at the table, smiled slightly and continued to write upon his parchment.

To one who did not know the family, they might believe this exchange was rude and disapproving. But to Callisto, it was mere jesting – Leo Prewett was always teasing Flann, who was hotheaded and reckless and usually took verbal shots at his father in return. An outside observer might believe Flann was being disrespectful, but it was all in good fun. The Prewett family was full of life and play and jesting – though, when it came right down to it, they were the fiercest fighters in all of Ireland. Callisto knew all of this, because they were as dear to her as if they were blood relations. And, in some ways, they might as well have been.

Callisto's uncle interrupted what was a promising, good-natured argument. "It is no matter if Flann is worthy of her or not," he said, his lips twitching with amusement. "_She_ fancies Ignotus Peverell."

"_Uncle_!"

At her furious outburst and indignation, her uncle laughed, as did Leo. Flann, on the other hand, pretended to look pained.

"_Ignotus Peverell_? That cuts to the quick, Miss Stewart. What has he, that I do not?"

Her face burning, Callisto opened her mouth to argue, but Ethne cut in. "Enough! Leave her be," she scolded, whapping her wooden spoon against Leo's shoulder. "Seren was my dearest friend, and I'll not have you dishonoring her by teasing her only child!"

"I wouldn't dream of teasing Callisto," Leo protested feebly, dodging the dangerous spoon a second time.

"I should hope not," Ethne went on loftily, turning her glare to Flann instead (who at least looked rather abashed), while pointing her spoon at all of them in a threatening manner. "After all, she makes those cloaks you all desire so desperately. No one else can weave the way she does. She is the only witch in all of the Isles who can infuse her fabric with the protection spells needed to ward off all but the most dangerous curses! Where would you be, without Callisto? Dead, most like."

"That is indeed true." Leo grew serious now, and the worry lines in his face were suddenly and clearly visible, while Flann fell silent. "They will be useful for those of us fighting, because those we fight against have been using several curses even _I_ am unfamiliar with. It has seemed that lately, they are engaging in more unusual and dangerous spells than ever."

Llewelyn added in a murmur, "We lost four of our fighters three weeks ago in pitched battle."

At these words, Callisto suddenly felt sick. Clasping her hands in her lap so tightly together they actually hurt, if only to distract herself with the physical pain, she whispered, "It is my fault. I should have sent them sooner –!"

Leo cut her off quickly, his expression strained and worried. "No, child. You could not have sent packages such as these without garnering notice. It is most certainly _not_ your fault. You know that those we are up against are extremely powerful. Many of our recruits are not adequately trained to battle those who only desire to kill outright –"

"But had I sent the cloaks sooner –!" she repeated desperately.

Her uncle cut her off the second time, though quite gently. "It is _not_ your fault," he reiterated, placing a hand upon her shoulder. "You ask too much of yourself for something that happened in your past which you could not have prevented. Furthermore, your movements are being watched, Callisto. You could not have gotten the cloaks to Leo any sooner than today. You know that."

"But it is as Lady Prewett said!" she cried miserably. "I am the only witch in all of the Isles who can weave such magical cloaks for battle! No one else knows those secrets, to my knowledge!" She twisted her hands together and blinked back tears. "Had I weaved more, or sent them sooner, perhaps those men would not have perished…!"

"There are far too many factors involved for you to blame yourself, Callisto," Leo insisted again. "The intricacies of life and death can never, ever be traced to just one person!" He turned to her uncle and added soberly, "However, it is important to inform you that I believed I recognized two members of the House of Black during our last encounter. Salazar grows bolder, and has many resources at his hand. I know Callisto's skills at Occlumency are excellent, but…"

Callisto shook her head fiercely at these words. "No," she said angrily, knowing exactly what he was hinting at. "Salazar Slytherin," (she nearly spat the words), "has never broken my defenses, sir. The rumors at the school are that I weave because I enjoy it, because my mother did it before me."

"He has not broken your defenses, that you are _aware_ of." Leo sighed and gazed at the flames within the hearth. "But no one knows what Salazar is thinking, or what he truly believes, because _his_ defenses are so dense that absolutely _no one_ can penetrate them."

There was a long, unnerving pause, before Callisto's uncle quietly asked, "Who else do you intend to recruit, my friend?"

"We've been secretly feeling about, as always. The Ó Cathain clan is powerful and, though they are stubborn as mules and as dangerous as hornets, they are not cruel and hateful. Perhaps they will be willing to assist us. They are talented fighters, which would be an immense help. Their eldest daughter fancies Llewelyn, as well. That is a bargaining chip."

"Ah. But does Llewelyn fancy _her_?"

Llewelyn chuckled from the table. "Few men would not fancy Honoria Ó Cathain. She is incredibly powerful, beautiful, and her character is sound."

"Matching yourself for a mere alliance and not for love is a foolish venture, m'boy."

"Well…" Llewelyn began writing again. "Honoria and I have seen more of each other than anyone knows. Mostly in secret. We both understand the importance of the work the two of you are trying to achieve. She witnessed a skirmish first-hand by sheer accident one day, and was horrified by what she saw. Several members of the House of Black and the House of Avery were attacking a village of Muggles near her family's stronghold. Since then, she has been convincing her parents of the drastic measures Salazar is taking, and from what I understand, they have been appalled by what she has relayed. They have met with me twice now, to discuss particulars."

"You surprise and impress me." Callisto's uncle nodded his head in approval.

Curiously, Leo asked, "What of the Peverell family? Have you not thought to bring them into this? I often wonder; after all, they are a powerful name and have mountains of wealth – enough to rival the House of Black, even."

"I have thought of it, of course. But at the moment, it is utterly has little positive opinion on the matter of Muggle-borns, but even if I thought he would help us, he is too close to Serpentina to risk inviting his confidence. And Cadmus is completely against such people, so it would be useless to approach him. Ignotus's closest companion is Ross Faintree, however. But though he has no qualms against such wizards and witches, Ignotus himself is reckless right now. Once he calms down, I will have more to work with, there."

Callisto broke in, flushing. "He is reckless because –!"

"I am aware of the reasons for his recklessness. He will come to terms with everything soon enough, but in the meantime, we must be patient and wait. I am hoping, by next summer, that I can arrange it so that he will be a part of us. If he is willing, of course. He would be a huge asset. He is one of the most talented wizards of his age. I have rarely seen anyone as skilled in Defense and Offensive as Ignotus Peverell. Few could best him. He nearly caught me off guard one day during a practical, actually."

"_You_?" Flann looked positively stunned.

Callisto's uncle chuckled. "I shall admit; he greatly surprised me. Once I can get him out of the castle and sparring with me in a more open arena, I think I will have to use Callisto and Cantrella to cast Defense spells on my behalf, for protective measures! I can't do such just yet, though. Salazar is too observant."

Leo took a deep breath and sighed heavily, as though uncertain of his next words: "Speaking of Salazar… I know you are working tirelessly against him. But eventually, it _will_ all fall apart. He will discover the truth, and he will despise you for it. We will have all-out war, then. He likely already knows, and is biding his time to strike against you."

Callisto's uncle rose to his feet, and fastened his cloak about him once more. "I believe you are right, but that is the way of things, after all."

Leo looked saddened by this. "Once, the two of you were the best of friends…"

"Friendships change. People make decisions, whether good or bad…and our choices dictate the path we follow into the future. He and I now follow different paths, and I have no other choice but to continue the work I have begun. With Salazar having been indirectly involved in the death of my sister, my brother-in-law, and very nearly my niece…" His expression changed subtly; no longer did he look weary and sad, but furious.

Callisto remained perfectly still at his words. Long ago she had mastered the art of calmness when faced with the stinging memories of her parents' deaths. At the time, Seren Stewart had been the only witch in all of the Isles with the knowledge to weave magical cloaks for battle – and had used her talents to pass such cloaks to those working tirelessly to protect Muggle-borns, while teaching her daughter her secret trade. Callisto's father, Essex Stewart, had been a forthcoming advocate for Muggle-born wizards and witches, and had devoted himself to assisting Seren's brother with his work against those who despised anyone with "dirty blood". After all, pure-blood wizards and witches would inevitably mate with Muggles, creating Muggle-borns, and rejecting them would only create panic and fear when there was no need for such.

And then, one day, those same wizards who hated the Muggle-borns and all of those who tried to protect them – the "blood traitors", these filthy protectors were called – had randomly appeared at the Stewart residence.

There had been too many against too few; Callisto had been but a child and unable to help. And though her mother and father had fought fiercely and eliminated several of their attackers, both had been overpowered in a matter of minutes.

And she had witnessed it. She had witnessed the bloody, gruesome murders from where she had been hiding behind her mother's loom, behind a barrier her mother had cast in an attempt to protect her daughter. And had her uncle not suddenly appeared at that exact moment with several of his friends, those who had killed her parents would have killed her, too.

At the time, it had seemed the longest, most horrific day of her young life. Her uncle had held her to his breast and cried with her, had buried her parents, and then taken her to the Prewetts, who were allies with others who stood against those who desired to eradicate Muggle-borns.

But though Ethne Prewett insisted on taking Callisto in as her own child, Callisto herself had refused the offer.

_"But I cannot stay here. I must stay with Uncle."_

Her uncle had knelt beside her at these words, and tried to explain to her that the Prewetts could give her the sort of home he could not, and that she must stay with Ethne and Leo and their two sons, who would all treat her as a daughter and sister now, and protect her.

But she had merely thrown her arms about his neck and begged him otherwise.

"They cannot protect me as you can! And those bad wizards will come for me, and if I am with the Prewetts, I will bring death to them! If I stay with you, no one will harm either of us!"

Her uncle, whom she had always had wrapped about her finger, had been unable to refuse her second demand. He had taken her in, and she had lived with him since. Now, she was inwardly thankful things had not happened differently. Her uncle was brave, kind, and gentle – but terrifyingly fierce, an excellent teacher, and continually working against the sort of witches and wizards who sought to destroy those who wished to protect the innocent Muggle-borns. After all, Muggle-borns could not help what they were, because somewhere in their past was a wizard or a witch that had mated with someone non-magical.

It was only later that they discovered Salazar Slytherin had been indirectly involved in the Stewarts' demise. He had known the identities of the wizards who had purposefully sought Essex and Seren with the intentions to murder them, and though he knew that the Stewarts were likely targets, he claimed he had specifically requested they not be attacked, and that he realized only too late that they had been murdered – otherwise, he had insisted, he would have stopped it.

Whether that was true or not was still a mystery. On the other hand, what was absolute fact was that Salazar Slytherin was indeed behind the terrible efforts to eradicate Muggle-borns, and masked wizards and witches were doing the dirty work in his place. He was, after all, a Founder of Hogwarts. He had obligations, no matter how public his true opinions were.

The mood in the cottage was no longer cheery. Ethne Prewett looked tense and strained; Llewelyn thoughtful and quiet, Flann mulish and sullen.

Leo slowly grasped his friend's hand once more as Callisto fastened her own cloak again, ready to leave.

Quietly, he said, "You take far too many risks, Godric."

But Godric Gryffindor only smiled wearily. "Someone must. And I willingly accept the task. Best that I do, and no one else. Callisto? It is time to go. We have others to visit, today."

She nodded solemnly. "Yes, Uncle."


	9. Chapter 9 - Obsessions of Power & Glory

**The Last Enemy**

**Chapter Nine - Obsessions of Power and Glory**

The rumors flying through the castle two days after the holiday were enough to make Ignotus sick to his stomach. It was amazing how everyone suddenly seemed so morbidly interested in the fact that Cearo was with Cadmus's child. In fact, the rumors were so bad that Ignotus was wishing his invisibility cloak were already finished – then he could avoid the relentless bombardment of questions, as students eventually desired to discover the actual truth, rather than relying on chancy gossip, and so sought out one of Cadmus's brothers. And it just so happened that most of the students within the castle felt that Ignotus was easier to approach than Antioch.

The problem was, he had enough to do without quashing rumors and gossip. His primary focus was to capture a moment of Callisto's time, without anyone else interfering. He wanted to show her the cloak he had successfully woven over Christmas with Mippy's suggestions, and seek her advice on his craftsmanship.

Fortunately, it wasn't nearly as difficult to get Callisto on her own as it had been_before_ the holiday. Within the first week back, he received a Patronus: a beautiful but deadly looking falcon that landed on his bed while he was fishing a boot out from beneath it. He was lucky, he thought, that the other boys had descended the stairs for breakfast moments before, and that he was running so late. Otherwise, he would have been slightly embarrassed when the hawk opened its beak and said in Callisto's soft voice, "_Fifth floor, statue of the Roman witch Oriella, moonrise tonight, to discuss weaving_."

Sitting through the day's classes proved exceptionally difficult, because he found that his mind was constantly wandering to Callisto and what she would think of his latest attempts at weaving. He had seen her at breakfast, eating with Cantrella and Hesperia. She had been deep in some sort of discussion with them, and he had not dared to interrupt, though he did flush when he passed by her on his way out of the hall.

Ross, as usual, had given him a bemused, exasperated look and had muttered quietly, (though with a small grin), "I thought perhaps you may have overcome your infatuation during Yule, but I see it was daft of me to believe such."

"Oh, sod off," Ignotus had snapped back. "She's assisting me with my project, much as you are assisting Perseus with his."

"Great Merlin's _arse_, don't remind me!" Ross had snarled, and for the entire first period (Advanced Charms with Mistress Rowena), Ignotus's best friend had been completely unapproachable in conversation. Perseus was clearly wearing on his nerves.

Lunch had been just as difficult as breakfast, for Callisto was again with Cantrella, and after lunch Ignotus had sat through a boring Defense class with Master Godric, his mind far from where it should have been, as he daydreamed about meeting Callisto after the moon had risen. It took all he had in order to jam his thoughts before they went too far; before anyone other than Ross noticed his drifting attention.

Dinner and the following few hours in the common room weren't just difficult – they were torture. Ignotus tried desperately to read one of the books he had taken from the library regarding the subject of invisibility, but he couldn't absorb anything out of it. He sat by the fire, pretending to be engrossed, while he waited for all of his friends to slowly drift to their dormitories. Callisto was nowhere to be seen, and he wondered why she wasn't in the common room studying, or at work on her loom, or chatting with Cantrella as she had been doing nearly all day.

_Finally_, when the last dormitory door closed, Ignotus threw his book to the floor, pushed out of his chair, grabbed the cloak he had weaved over the holiday from a pile of his things, and bolted for the portrait. Nethrus clucked her tongue disapprovingly, but he ignored her as he sprinted down the corridor, down a flight of stairs, took a shortcut behind a tapestry on the sixth floor, and emerged a few minutes later on the fifth floor.

As he approached the statue of Oriella, he saw Callisto leaning against the window ledge next to it, gazing out over the moonlit landscape. It was chilly within the castle, as there was still snow on the ground, so she wore a heavy cloak that, most unfortunately, hid her figure from his view.

But at his footsteps, she turned and smiled shyly at him, and he felt his heart beat much faster and more erratically.

"I hope you had a good Yule," she said, stepping forward to meet him.

"It… It could have been better."

Oh, blast. What the hell was he saying? Why was he being _honest_? Shouldn't he just say: "It was fine", and leave it at that?

But that was the crux of the whole thing – he couldn't be _dis_honest with Callisto, for some reason. He _wanted_ her to know how he was feeling, and not make up an emotion that wasn't there. He wanted to see if she would care enough about him to be sympathetic and understanding.

Her smile turned sad at his confession, and she murmured, "Yes, I heard of Cadmus and Cearo. I hope they are both well?"

He shrugged half-heartedly and sat down on the plinth of the statue. "I suppose so."

To his surprise, Callisto joined him, her body brushing his. She reached out and took his cold hand in hers, and said seriously, "I hope Cadmus will be a good father."

"I would like to think so, but I cannot hope for such things. He is too preoccupied with… with his project…" He suddenly broke off, for the onrush of emotion was odd, and he hadn't expected it at all. Why was he even worried about Cadmus? His middle brother had made his own decisions, and did not want Ignotus's concern or Antioch's suggestions.

But it was as though Ignotus couldn't help feeling sad about the whole situation, and the emotion of sadness for Cadmus was so unexplainable in itself, that he buried his face against his knees, wondering what kind of fool he was for admitting such truths to a girl he was hopelessly in love with.

His heart nearly burst into his throat however, when she suddenly began stroking his unruly hair with her fingers.

"I am sorry," she whispered. "Is there anything I can do?"

Ignotus shook his head slightly. "No." He swallowed. "But thank you."

There was a moment of silence, and just as he recollected why he was here in the first place, she said, "Well, in that case, I believe I gave you a challenge over the holidays. I should like to see your work, Ignotus."

He lifted his head and slowly handed her the cloak he had made. Mippy had not only watched him as he wove, but once he had finished the fabric on her loom, she had shown him how to cut it into the correct pieces and how to sew them together, and how to neatly keep his stitches in line to create an actual piece of clothing.

Callisto took it from him, lit her wand, and began examining the fabric. He watched and waited, wondering if she would approve or have criticism.

The silence was unnerving as the minutes ticked by, and she continued to scan the threads. Unable to bear it any longer, he finally said hollowly, "One of our house elves gave me advice. She was quite the warden, I assure you. She would constantly tell me if I were going astray with the loom. I kept wondering if she would resort to hitting me with a switch! She also showed me how to cut the bolt once I had finished weaving it, and sew a piece of clothing together, as you see."

Callisto smiled. "She was an excellent tutor, for you have improved greatly! It was well that she was there to encourage you in such fashion. The overall design is slightly off from center, but it is not anything to be ashamed of. If I did not know better, I would have thought you'd have been weaving for at least two years, based on this piece alone. It is really quite incredible that you have come so far in such a short time."

His heart and ego swelled, and he sat up straighter. "Do you really think so?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't believe it. You can always improve. Anyone can improve. We never stop learning, no matter how old we are, or how well we think we know an art or a subject of study."

A memory, from before Christmas, rushed back to him. Startled, he said, "Master Godric once told me that."

Callisto smiled. "Master Godric has many pearls of wisdom, does he not? He has said such things to me before, too. But I think, once he secures the Demiguise pelt for you, you will be able to weave a satisfactory cloak. If all of the hair is the same color, it will not make much difference what the pattern looks like, for that will not be what one is going to look at. If one sees it at all!" she giggled.

"I have not yet asked Master Godric if he was been able to secure the pelt before Yule. I know he has many things to attend to. I do not wish to bother him, but I wish I knew if he has received it, yet." He twisted his fingers in agitation.

"I'm sure he will approach you the moment it is in his possession. But, in the meantime, you may continue practicing on my loom, if you wish."

For some reason, her eyes seemed to curtain as she said this. Confused by such a closed expression, Ignotus asked, "Won't _you_ be weaving, Miss Stewart?"

"I think you can call me Callisto by now," she said, her mouth turning down slightly. "Don't you?"

He swallowed. Call her by her given name? Someone clearly wanted him suffer. Whenever he thought of saying her given name, it was always in some sort of fantasy, with her spread out beneath him, arching against his body. He tightened his legs slightly, and said hesitantly, "Very well. Callisto."

She smiled when he said it, but then the smile faded as she returned to their conversation. "No," she said slowly. "I won't have time to weave for the remainder of the year, I'm afraid. I must study healing spells. I was going to do both, but Master Godric has made me promise not to weave." She looked incredibly downcast.

"But… Why would he make you promise such a thing, if you love it so?"

Callisto shrugged, her eyes drifting to the long beam of moonlight streaming in from the window. "I suppose he believes that I would focus too much on weaving, and not enough on my project. And he is right. Master Godric can see through all of his students, can't he? He told Cantrella she was not to speak to any of her cousins while she works on _her_ project; otherwise, they will simply chastise her for being selected to study beneath Master Godric and not Master Salazar, and her anger would take the place of her focus."

Startled, Ignotus said, "Why on earth would they tease her for such a thing? My brothers and I were Sorted differently, and no one teases _us_. Nor do we truly tease each other. All of the Founders of Hogwarts are equally gifted and important."

A bitter smile curved Callisto's lips. "You are not well acquainted with Cantrella, are you? Not many people are, for she is often…difficult…to get to know. But the truth is, she is quite different from most members of the House of Black."

"She is?"

He had never paid much attention to Cantrella, because he had always thought her to be _exactly_ like the other members of the powerful, arrogant Black family. It was surprising to learn he had been wrong for six years.

"Perhaps on the outside it does not seem so. Her features are very much like her mother's, and she even possesses that haughtiness all of her relatives have. But beneath the surface, Cantrella is very, very different. Her family constantly berates her for drifting from their ideals. It wears on her temper something terrible, and she has a terrible temper. She has nearly dueled with two of her cousins these past few months alone, over some little thing or another. Fortunately, someone always stopped them before things got out of control, but Master Godric is worried for her. He spoke to her privately just yesterday to make her aware of his concerns. She claims she doesn't care that he is worried, but I don't believe it. Cantrella shoulders the world, and will insist that she is strong enough to carry her burdens alone. But underneath, she is incredibly lonely, and she hates weakness of any kind, especially in herself. She despises her cousins because they despise her… They are always teasing her about her house placement at Hogwarts and about her father's family – because even though the Dreux Clan is powerful in Gaul, they aren't quite as wealthy as the House of Black. Her cousins are cruel about such things, and she is eager for an opportunity to face them and best them. Godric does not want that to happen."

"I suppose I can see his point. Having several members of the House of Black face off would be apoplectic."

"Yes," Callisto said, a bit archly. "Because in the end, Cantrella would kill them."

Utterly startled by this random, dark piece of information, he stammered, "She…_what_?"

"Have you not watched her duel against Master Godric? Pay close attention next time, for we are scheduled to practice dueling in two days. Cantrella is one of the most talented duelers I have ever seen. Master Godric has been training her privately, just as he has been training you."

"Because she is so good?"

"Partly." Callisto did not elaborate, but rose to her feet. "It is very late. We should return to the tower before we are caught."

A hundred thoughts raced through his mind, but he could not formulate any of them into words, even as he stood and followed Callisto down the hall. He had never tried to get to know Cantrella, because her aloof, haughty personality made her almost unapproachable and it irritated him. Was there really more to her than that?

But there was something more important than just the fact that Cantrella was more than she seemed – there was something lurking out of his reach, something that seemed almost more disturbing then Cantrella herself. By the time they reached a hidden stair that would lead them to the seventh floor, he blurted the one thing that he couldn't stop thinking:

"Why _else_ is he training her?"

To his surprise, Callisto disarmed him immediately by smiling over her shoulder. "Why else is he training you privately? Or me? Because he believes we are the best, and he desires to hone our skills, I imagine."

He tried to refocus. This didn't seem to make the first bit of sense, for some reason, though he couldn't possibly think _why_. "But, if you could do anything in the world you wished, what would it be? Training to duel defensively? I don't believe that." His voice was sharper than he intended, but it was only because there was something hidden, something dangling just out of his range of vision that he couldn't grasp. Something she knew that he didn't. Something that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

It was pitch black upon the stairs, except for the light of her wand. She turned to face him, one step above him, and her expression was now distraught and sad. Softly, she whispered, "No. It would not be Defense, or even Offense. I would work at my loom, like my mother once did. And… Well… Perhaps I would do… this."

She leaned forward, and pressed her lips tentatively to his.

oOo

It was odd, he thought, how just two days before he had hated the idea of being gossiped about. Now, Ignotus found that he didn't much care that the entire castle was whispering, and about _him_, no less.

But then again, every second he could spare was spent with Callisto, and he preferred being in her company to anything else. It was incredible that she actually felt the same way about him as he felt about her; but she _did_, and he couldn't see how his life could get better. It was as though weights had fallen from his shoulders, making everything easier, more bearable. He couldn't help smiling like a dazed sod whenever he looked at her and she smiled back at him. And, best of all, she didn't seem to mind all the gossip either, but she would merely glance shyly at him whenever someone passed them, gaping.

The hardest part of his life, however, was definitely weaving – even _with_Callisto's help. Or maybe _because_ of Callisto's help. Ignotus knew he needed to focus on creating at least one more fabric before he started on the Demiguise pelt, but with Callisto always sitting near his feet, studying and copying notes on Healing Spells, he was constantly distracted. Only when the common room finally emptied each night would she rise and sit beside him on the bench behind the loom; then, she would nuzzle his neck with her nose and place maddening, feather-light kisses down his pulse, or tangle her fingers into his hair and pull him down to kiss him deep and hard, and guide his hands around her waist.

It was more than he'd ever imagined. Kissing Callisto was breath taking and immensely satisfying, as though part of the hunger he'd been experiencing was finally relieved, somewhat. But inevitably, whenever she would eventually rise to go to bed, and he trudged up the boys' stairs to his own spiral four-poster, he would realize the hunger was actually still there, gnawing in the pit of his stomach for something more. Something _else_.

Still, despite the deepening ache, he was deliberately careful and cautious. He would not risk his mother's anger if he followed in Cadmus's footsteps, nor did he want Callisto's mysterious uncle to suddenly appear at the school, should he find out that Ignotus Peverell had impregnated his niece. Furthermore, he'd never done anything quite like this before – he'd never even kissed a girl before Callisto! – and he wasn't certain how to proceed without making an utter fool of himself. Of course, he was certain Callisto had never been this far either, so they would have to go into the rest of it together, and he was hoping that they eventually would.

As for Callisto, she seemed to understand why he was constantly holding back in their private times together, and she never really pushed him for more. Perhaps she was as nervous as he was, or perhaps more sensible – their relationship had just started, after all.

Besides, he had something just as important as his relationship with Callisto to consider as January progressed. Because Master Godric sent for him two weeks after Yule.

He was incredibly nervous as he tapped on his Founder's study door, and after a couple of seconds, the deep, quiet voice advised that the door was open.

Ignotus entered, and closed the door carefully behind him before he moved to stand in front of the large desk. In the firelight and candlelight, Godric appeared tired, but he gave his pupil a small smile.

"I understand that your attempts at weaving are progressing well, Ignotus," he began.

Ignotus hesitated, and then responded, "Callisto claims they are, sir. But I fear I still have much to learn."

Godric looked thoughtful, before he murmured, "Well, be that as it may, it seems you are learning the first of which I said you would have to learn to complete your task – you are learning about _yourself_. And may I ask, what else have you discovered, besides humility?"

Only a few months ago, Ignotus would have been offended by such a statement and question. But to his surprise, he found that he wasn't the least offended now. Godric was merely being truthful, and Ignotus owed him the truth in return.

"Patience," he said, smiling wryly.

At this, his Founder chuckled, then sighed deeply and shook his head. "Yes, that is most expected as well. Weaving requires a certain type of patience that a great number of people do not possess. I know that I, for example, could never weave."

"If you'll forgive me for saying so, sir… But, you employ your time in a much more beneficial way. Teaching us, for instance. You are the best teacher we could ask for!"

Godric rose and turned to the window, gazing out into the dark winter sky. He didn't exactly respond to Ignotus's statement, but instead mused, "Someone once informed me that I lacked patience. So I know, from experience, that this was a hard lesson for you to learn as well. It was exceedingly difficult for me, I confess! But you have learned it very quickly, it seems – whereas it took me years." He smiled over his shoulder. "But never mind. That loom will teach you more than you could ever guess by the end of your endeavor."

And, without further explanation, he lifted a large package from a table beneath the windows, and placed it upon the desk.

Ignotus stared at it for a moment, hardly daring to breath.

His founder said quietly, "Open it, Ignotus. It is rightfully yours, for you paid for it handsomely."

He reached forward and shakily untied the knots holding the leather hides loose. As he did so, the casing fell away, and to his amazement, the most beautiful thing imaginable spilled out.

It was huge, covering the desk and unrolling to the floor – a hide of the finest silver threads he had ever seen in his life. It positively glittered in the candlelight, like brilliant jewels or stars or liquid moonlight or maybe even just rippling water, and when he touched it, it was silky soft and cool to his fingertips. Unable to resist, he raked his fingers through it gently, feeling the long threads that were so thin there were millions of them to create the hide itself. When they shifted, they changed from silver to opaque to palest blue, sparkling all the while, never quite the same color and never quite the same appearance.

After a long, awed moment, Ignotus whispered, "I don't believe there are words to describe such a beautiful object, sir."

Godric smiled sadly. "I shall admit, I have never seen the likes of it before, nor am I likely to see such a breath-taking object again. It is truly amazing. Still, at this point, Callisto would be the best person to speak with on how to take it apart for your project; I have no knowledge of dissecting a pelt for such a purpose, Ignotus. My abilities to assist you have come to a halt for the present, and I can only now wish you all luck possible as you move forward into the next steps."

Feeling a sudden, intense possessiveness and sense of panic, he looked up and said, "Sir? I fear to keep it within my chambers, lest someone steal it. May I request that it remain in your office, until Callisto and I can examine it further? I know you seal this place with numerous spells, and none could possibly take it if you have it protected."

"I would highly recommend that. Wizards in China commit murder for such objects; I'd prefer to avoid those types of scenarios here in Briton. We have enough murder as it is without adding another element to the mix. I shall keep it safe for you, I promise. And, tomorrow evening after dinner, I will expect the two of you here to inspect it further."

Ignotus nodded, and slowly began to fold the magnificent pelt back into the leather hides.

It was only when the straps had been retied that he realized that the cloak itself had seemingly given off its own light, for the room looked darker to his eyes, and he could still see the silver gleam around the edges of his vision.

Shaking himself, as though rousing from a dream, he solemnly bid Godric goodnight, and returned to his dormitory to find Callisto.

oOo

The next night, she positively stared at it for the longest time, gently stroking her hand through the fur as though she would be content to do so for the rest of her life.

"Never have I seen anything so beautiful," she finally whispered, glancing up at Godric with wide eyes.

"Nor anyone else in this castle, I imagine. Not even the famous House of Black." Godric's words had a sarcastic edge to them, though Ignotus could not understand why. The House of Black could have anything they could possibly want, with the wealth they possessed.

Still, he did not question his founder, but instead murmured, "To think I own something the House of Black does not. That is something, is it not?"

"Never compare yourself to the House of Black," Callisto replied sharply, turning to frown at him. "It is pointless and foolish to do so. Presently, you have much larger issues to concern yourself with – weaving this into a cloak, for instance."

"Well, you are now my teacher," he reminded her, grinning. "I await your guidance."

She opened her mouth to retort, but Godric interrupted with a laugh: "Merlin, the pair of you are entertaining, if nothing else! Ignotus, teasing your teacher is extremely unwise."

Ignotus couldn't help but grin slightly. "I am sorry." Then, more humbly, he turned to Callisto and said, "What should we do first?"

She glared at him for a moment longer before she said, "First, we will have to take it apart, though I fear it will be a daunting task. Master Godric? Mayn't we use the chamber next to this one for such a purpose? You can seal it, sir, much better than we could. And," she added to Ignotus, "We shall have to put spells upon the floor, to ensure that none of the strands are lost. Even one missed would cost a fortune!"

Godric added thoughtfully, "Moreover, I suggest you place black fabric on the floor. The strands will show up more clearly upon a dark color. And yes, you may use the chamber next to this one. I will make certain it is properly sealed, so that no one but myself, or the two of you, can enter the room."

"I wove a bolt of solid black fabric last week," Ignotus said quickly. "We can use that to place upon the floor."

Callisto nodded. "Yes, that would be best. And we will have to use a very fine knife to slice the strands as close to the hide as possible. We cannot waste any of them. Once we lay them all out perfectly on the black fabric, we can trim them to size and we will be able to feed them into the loom for weaving."

Ignotus exhaled slowly as his eyes followed her fingers; they were still moving through the silky pelt upon Godric's desk. Her plan sounded quite difficult, but at least they _had_ a plan. Which was more then he had _before_ he'd secured the pelt.

Perhaps his challenge wouldn't be so impossible after all.

oOo

Two days later, he would have denied thinking any such thing, for Ignotus had never in his life imagined how many strands of long, watery hair there really_were_ on a Demiguise pelt. He worked constantly on it – whenever he had a free period between classes, late into the night, early in the morning. Godric gave him permission to skip his Defense classes, considering he knew the material already thanks to his private training under his Founder. It was a better use of his time to work on dissecting the pelt, now.

By the end of the moon cycle, the strands – now his threads – were stretched out evenly upon the black fabric, glittering white-silver. With Callisto's guiding hand, they were trimmed so that they were all the same length. Godric had used magic to transport the girl's loom to the chamber they had selected for the project, and within one weekend, Ignotus had threaded the loom with the fine, silky threads.

To his annoyance, they seemed to be constantly slipping through his fingers, constantly not wanting to do what he needed them to do; it was maddening and frustrating, but he kept his temper in check and was finally able to begin the actual weaving.

Callisto would occasionally come to offer her advice, and he was grateful for her presence, because – far from erotic – she watched the threads as carefully as he did. And whenever it appeared that they might tangle or twist, she would help him rearrange them. The Demiguise pelt was so hard to weave that he wondered once or twice if he would even finish by the next year, let alone by the end of second term. They seemed to slip and slide and move on their own, and even Callisto commented more than once that they were horribly impossible to work with; she had never seen threads like these before.

But Ignotus had more important things on his mind then how difficult the weaving itself was. He had decided to place spells on the threads _as_ he wove them, rather than at the end of the process. It was unknown how the Chinese artists went about such things, but he had come to the conclusion during his extensive note taking and research that the cloak would be _more_ magical if he embedded it with spells as he went along, rather than at one time upon a finished product. When he told Callisto of his plans, she staunchly agreed that it was an excellent idea.

But to his surprise, whenever he cast variants of invisibility spells upon the Demiguise hair, the threads seemed to glow brighter, as though absorbing the magic. When Ignotus told Godric how odd he found the sight, his founder only frowned, and claimed that such knowledge was beyond his expertise, and he could only offer theories.

Perhaps it was the hidden magic he had told Ignotus of months before. Ignotus could only speculate and hope, and continue to weave – locking himself within the chamber until other students wondered where he was, or if he was even still within the castle.

Until he forgot everything except his desire to complete the fabric for the cloak.

The pelt had become his obsession, and he was determined to complete it before the end of the year – determined to make it the best Invisibility Cloak that would ever exist. Because if Antioch made the most superior wand in the world, and if Cadmus could eventually raise the dead… Then Ignotus knew he must also match his brothers' skills. He could not possibly fail.

The only thing that gnawed on his conscience was the idea of the hallows. Since returning from Yule, he had not seen much of his brothers, having locked himself up with the pelt so much instead. And, to his knowledge, Cadmus and Antioch had not discussed the unification of their objects since that fateful night in Peverell Fortress, either. But the very idea of three objects that could defeat Death wormed its way into Ignotus's brain, so that while he wove, he thought of defeating Death _himself_, thought of being the strongest wizard in the world, stronger then either of his brothers.

Such were intriguing thoughts. Glory and admiration were definitely wonderful ideas, he decided.

But sometimes, every once in a while, he wondered if Godric could read his mind, because more often than not, his Founder would look at him with a sad, concerned, or frowning expression that made Ignotus nervous and confused. He had told no one – not even Callisto – of Cadmus's idea of the hallows, for despite the glorious ideas of defeating Death upon the battlefield with three objects destined to be so amazingly powerful, he was certain that Callisto would never approve. Nor Godric, for that matter. And so he battled against himself while he wove, until his nerves were nearly raw and it took Callisto kneading the tension out of his shoulders and teasing his lips apart with hers to make him temporarily forget his grand ideas and Cadmus's suggestion.

Ironic, he thought one afternoon, while slowly sliding the shuttle across the silky threads, that the only time he forgot his obsession was when Callisto was there to physically show that she loved him.

Love…

Once or twice, it seemed he was _so close_ to something important…something_crucial_…something that would make _all the difference_ in the world in his project and his peace of mind…before it slipped away from him like rushing water in cupped hands.

And whenever he fought to attempt to discover it, he would inevitably shake himself, and return to weaving and daydreaming of glory – until Callisto returned to him, and the entire idea of hallows and glory and magical numbers and powerful objects faded from his mind, and he wondered what in heaven and hell he was _really_ doing.


	10. Chapter 10 - The Love Debate

**The Last Enemy**

**Chapter Ten - The Love Debate**

Antioch rubbed his face harshly. The long piece of Ellhorn wood upon his desk seemed to taunt him with ruthless vengeance, and he couldn't help but glare at it in disgust.

Before Yule, Ollivander had hesitantly informed him that creating a wand for the first time often proved a difficult business for the apprentice wandmaker, but Antioch had never dreamed it would be _this_ complicated. It was definitely wearing on his patience, and he could only try, desperately, to keep his temper within check. A task that wasn't working very well at all; twice now, he had thrown something (once a candlestick, once a stack of parchments) across the room in sheer anger.

His attempts thus far to whittle the piece of Ellhorn had caused numerous cuts in varying degrees of depth and length to his fingers and hands – for, to get the best results, Ollivander had insisted that the wood must be worked _without_ magic, while one placed certain magical spells upon the wood to make it into a wand. Such spells were guarded and secretive; Ollivander had given them to Antioch quite reluctantly and for the price of his silence in the form of an Unbreakable Vow – a price Antioch had willingly paid, and without second thought. Who would he tell, after all? He had no desire to pass along Ollivander's trade. The price had been worth it, for the spells themselves were working well.

It was just the _wood_ that seemed so bloody difficult.

He reminded himself that it the real issue probably had something to do with where the wood had come _from_, and he felt a certain amount of pity for Ollivander, who worked many sorts of difficult woods, all of the time.

But this almost went beyond "difficult" – the Ellhorn core he had extracted from the gnarled, twisted tree in the Peverell necropolis was almost _hateful_. It seemed to _thrive_ on Antioch's frustration, for the more frustrated Antioch became, the more difficult the blasted piece of wood proved to work. It seemed to laugh silently whenever he cut himself with the knife he was using to trim the wand down to its final shape. It seemed to strike against him whenever he least expected it, almost as though it were a living thing. It actually slipped from his nimble fingers once, while he was examining it closely, and caught him across the jaw, leaving a long, though at least superficial, cut.

The worst part was that he wasn't even _close_ to having the core whittled down to where he needed it to be. It was still too thick and heavy. Sometimes he couldn't even get the knife _into_ the wood to cut it.

But he daren't complain about the problem to anyone. Ollivander would only look at him with those protuberant eyes of his and blink a couple of times, without actually speaking, because Ollivander knew the problem so well that it didn't even faze him. Master Salazar would ignore Antioch's complaints, as he still believed the venture to be utterly foolish. Cadmus was too preoccupied between creating and placing secretive Reverse Effect Spells upon the stone he was working with, and with Cearo, whose condition was becoming quite noticeable. And the only time Antioch saw Ignotus was if his brother deemed to come to meals – half the time, Ignotus apparently forgot that he needed to eat at all. The youngest Peverell brother was so busy weaving that Antioch hadn't even had a chance to ask how Ignotus's cloak was coming along.

He would have to try and speak with Ignotus soon, but as it was currently late at the night, he would have to wait until the next morning, at the very least. Sighing, he lifted the sharp, narrow knife from his desk and took a deep breath, then gripped the Ellhorn core tightly. With a deft, swift motion, he struck the piece of wood and a chip flew off into the wall; at the same time, the knife seemed to rebound on a knot in the wood and went the opposite way before Antioch could stop it. Against all the odds it bit into his left hand, and a sudden spurt of blood made Antioch wince and growl. The cut was deeper then the others he had endured thus far, and the drops of red ran down his thumb and onto the future wand.

Without warning, the Ellhorn wood seemed grow cold beneath his fingers as the blood came into contact with it. It shuddered slightly, until he dropped it upon the desk to press a strip of cloth to his hand to stop the bleeding. But no... It must have been his hand shaking, he thought absently, because the wood wasn't actually _alive_. That was a ludicrous thought.

But, to his disconcertion, when he glanced down at it, it seemed to twitch slightly _without_ his touching it.

Antioch frowned at it warily. It _wasn't_ alive, but then, why would it...move? He had followed Ollivander's instructions and placed certain spells upon it already, but those shouldn't cause it to do anything like _this_, should they?

The wood grew still upon the desk, and he exhaled slowly. Perhaps he was wrong all the way around. Perhaps it _was_ actually alive. Trees themselves lived, so it stood to some sort of reason that wands had a residual heartbeat, so to speak, once they were taken from their host tree. He would have to ask Ollivander next he was in Hogsmeade, though he must keep the question light. Otherwise, Ollivander would ask _him_ questions.

"If I didn't know better," a quiet, hissing voice murmured behind him, "I'd say it's attacking you."

Antioch lifted the cloth from the cut on his hand to examine it. It was still bleeding, but the slight pressure had enabled him to see the depth in it.

Serpentina's cool hands took his. "It explains all of the other scars you've been sporting as of late," she added dryly. "Why have you not told me of this?"

"And appear a fool?" he retorted. "A fool who cannot even wield a knife against a piece of wood?"

"You are no fool. And this goes beyond wielding a knife and carving a piece of wood." Her eyes narrowed upon the Ellhorn core, now lying innocent and stationery upon his desk. "This is not ordinary wood, Antioch. Not even for wand wood. There is something _wrong_ with it." She paused, and then hissed quietly at the wood in Parseltongue. It twitched upon the desk at the sound, and she recoiled slightly.

Antioch tried not to tense at the interaction, because he didn't want to admit that the wood might _really_ be alive, and so said with annoyance, "It is just difficult, that is all. It is because I have never attempted to create a wand before."

"_That_ isn't it either." She drew her own wand from her robes and started to heal his wound, but he snatched his hand out of hers and picked up his knife again.

"I shall be fine," he said coldly.

"You have also not told me that the wood moves of its own accord, Antioch." Her voice was sharp.

"Ah. No, I had not told you yet. But I have a theory on that, and I do not think it is a cause for concern."

"I can guess your theory. Trees live, so it stands to reason that wand wood retains magic simply from its prior life as a part of the tree. But in this case, I think there _is_ a cause for concern."

"You are correct in that our theories match," he responded, slightly irritated. He had much work to do, and Serpentina, of all people, knew how important it was that he concentrate upon his project, regardless of the hour. "But I am certain that there is no cause for concern. Ollivander advised me that the first wand a person creates is always a very difficult process."

"But this is _different_!" she pressed, sounding both frustrated and confused. "In this case, the wood is completely engrained with _Death_." She was still frowning at the Ellhorn, as though it had caused her some personal injury. As though she despised it.

"It _is_ completely engrained with Death!" he snapped, turning to scowl at her. "As you know, that is exactly _why_ I selected that particular tree!"

She drew herself up and matched his scowl. "You aren't listening, are you? That wood," she declared angrily, "is trying to kill you, Antioch!"

He rolled his eyes at such a ridiculous suggestion, and turned back to his project. "Hardly," he muttered. Though, in the back of brain, something nagged at him that perhaps she might be right.

Serpentina clearly was not finished. "Antioch, that wood is _dangerous_. Destroy it, immediately. Forget your project. Your _skill_ is enough to defeat Athol McBain! You don't need a wand of Death!"

"For Merlin's sake! Would you leave me be? I have much work to do, and you are a distraction. I _will not_ give up this project!"

"A _distraction_? As Cearo was to Cadmus, you mean?"

She sounded dangerous, and when he chanced a glance at her, it was to find that her eyes were glittering furiously. He sighed and rubbed his face again. It would not do to anger Serpentina, no matter how much she was irritating him at the moment. Not only was she an accomplished dueler herself, but her father could kill him in fifty different ways, without having to even think about the task or strain himself.

"That isn't what I meant."

"Then what _did_ you mean?"

"I meant..." He exhaled slowly. "Serpentina, I must get this finished. It is hard enough with the wood itself attacking me, without _you_ attacking me, or me wanting to be with you!"

"Then come to bed," she suggested, tugging at his hand. "Leave it be for the night; start again tomorrow morning afresh."

He didn't move, but kept his eyes upon the Ellhorn. It was a tempting prospect. Serpentina could certainly ease the tension out of his muscles if he went to bed with her. But the Ellhorn seemed to laugh at him. It seemed to laugh at the idea that he was weak enough to need a woman to help accomplish his task of carving the wood for his future wand, even in something as simple as being intimate with her.

Serpentina bent down and brushed her lips along the shell of his ear. "Come," she murmured. Her hands were already skating over his chest, going beneath his tunic's collar to touch his skin. "Leave it for the night."

"No. I must work on it as much as possible. I _will_ conquer it," he spat, more at the wood then at her.

She withdrew from him, even stepping back a few paces. When she finally spoke, her voice was ice. "It _will_ kill you, Antioch. Whether it attacks you and cuts you to ribbons, or whether it _works_ you to death – it _will kill you_. I can see it as plain as day, and you won't listen to reason!"

The door had already slammed behind her by the time the words struck him fully. He turned to stare after her as the gravity of her statement sank into his brain. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps the wood's goal was to kill him, considering that it came from a cemetery full of the dead. Perhaps it loved Death _too_ much...

Suddenly disturbed, he rose from the table and put out the candles. He would be unable to recall Serpentina for the night, but he could at least do with some sleep. And she was probably right – if he attacked the Ellhorn wood again in the morning, it might be easier to work with. Maybe it was as tired as he was.

oOo

"Mr. Peverell!"

Ignotus jerked awake, and as his conscious came to him, so did a rising sense of embarrassment. Mistress Helga was frowning at him, and most of the class had swiveled in their seats to stare at him. He shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't been aware that he had drifted into a doze at all.

"Do you intend to sleep through tonight's round table discussion?" the lady asked sternly.

He shook his head quickly, though it was with effort that he stifled the yawn. "No, Mistress!" he insisted apologetically, resisting the urge to stretch his shoulders and legs.

"Well, it shan't do for you to sleep through my Charms lecture, either! You will accompany me after class to the kitchens, and demonstrate today's lessons for me on the pots and pans there." Then, turning to glide to the front of the room again, she continued, "Now, as to what I was saying before Mr. Peverell drifted off to sleep..."

Ignotus flushed as she went on with her lesson. Merlin's fat _arse_, how could he have been so stupid as to drift off to sleep in Advanced Charms? But the trouble was, he was so exhausted that he couldn't _help_ falling asleep, and now he was going to seriously pay for it. The punishment of demonstrating charms to Helga Hufflepuff wasn't the worst part – it was the time it would take to do the same; time he would lose when he could be cloistered in the chamber with the loom, trying to weave the Demiguise pelt into fabric. He had completed a third of it already, and the prospect of finishing it was driving him to work harder. He could see it completed now, with a bit of it already done.

Which, incidentally, was why he was so bloody tired. All of his free time had been spent in that room, fighting with the slippery threads, desperately trying to make them come together into fabric. He had forgotten to attend meals several times now, and forgotten at least one Transfiguration lecture (though he'd been able to convince Mistress Rowena that the reason he'd missed was because he wasn't feeling well, so at least he wormed his way out of _that_ detention).

He knew that Callisto was starting to worry for him – she hadn't said anything to him yet, but he could tell she was worried just by the way she looked at him when they were together. Even now, sitting next to him in the Charms lecture, she was staring at him as though stunned he had drifted off at all. He shook his head a fraction when he caught her eye, hoping she wouldn't whisper anything to him. He couldn't afford any additional delays, and Mistress Helga was already annoyed with his disregard for her lesson.

Callisto bit her lip, but turned her attention back to the front of the classroom, where a set of ale mugs were dancing a reel on top of a large desk.

It was a relief when the bell in the courtyard tower clanged the hour and the class ended; Mistress Helga quickly instructed her students to write twelve inches of parchment on the necessary wand movements for the spell she had been demonstrating.

Ignotus sullenly remained behind as his friends filed past him. Most stared at him, or ducked their heads as they went by. However, Ross whispered, "I'll save you a place at dinner. And after the round table discussion tonight, I think you need to go to bed and get a decent night's sleep, for once."

"Absolutely not," Ignotus hissed back. "I have work to do. Go on, I'll be down shortly."

Mistress Helga was gathering her parchments, and he certainly didn't want her to overhear what Ross was saying – otherwise, she might guess _why_ he had fallen asleep, and complain to Master Godric that Ignotus was spending too much time on his project then was strictly necessary. After all, the Founders had stated at the very beginning that the challenges were only supposed to be extra-curricular activities.

"Ross is right," Callisto interrupted quietly. "You're exhausted. You don't need to do anything after the round table discussion except go to bed."

He sighed in annoyance. "I'll be along to dinner shortly."

Callisto and Ross glanced at each other, their expressions clearly miffed, but they left him to Mistress Helga without another word. When the door shut behind them, he fought the urge to rub his face (or put his head down on the desk and go back to sleep), and gathered his books.

"Ah, yes," Mistress Helga said, turning from where she had been Vanishing her things away. She frowned slightly at him – though not unkindly. "Mr. Peverell. You have been very distracted as of late, and not just in _my_ lectures or practicals."

He said nothing to this – what _should_ he say? He was too tired to think of an excuse, as he had managed with Mistress Rowena.

"Normally, when my students are distracted," she went on casually, as she led the way out of the classroom and into the corridor, "I usually only need look as far as their...partner." She smiled slightly when he blushed at her suggestion. "But I don't think that is _your_ distraction, Ignotus."

"I am sorry for falling asleep, Mistress. It won't happen again."

"This isn't about apologizing," she said gently, stopping to look at him with concern. "I care about _you_. I care about all of my students, regardless of where they were Sorted! I know, for instance, you are putting _far_ too much time into your project – much more than was agreed upon by myself and my admirable colleagues. And I have no concern that if we were to proceed directly to the kitchens, you would be able to demonstrate the charm we were discussing in class today without any problems whatsoever. But what is _eating_ you, Ignotus? What is creating this _distraction_ in you? Surely not just your project."

He swallowed. How on earth could he explain _any_ of it? That the Demiguise pelt was being so frustrating, and would hardly weave together because the threads were so fine and slick? That he wanted nothing more than to curl up in front of a blazing fire with Callisto and snog her senseless for a few hours after the other students went to bed, and forget all of his other responsibilities? That his father's death was still nagging at him in the back of his mind, giving him a solid incentive for completing an Invisibility Cloak? That Cadmus's suggestion of the three hallows was constantly dancing before him maddeningly? That he refused to be outdone by his older brothers because they always seemed to be ahead of him in every possible way? That he wanted to experience glory and honor and earn the respect of others for his own skills, and not just because he was a Peverell? That he worried about his mother, at home without her sons? That he worried about Cearo, and how strained she always looked, because she was worrying about Cadmus and her own project and her unborn child? That he worried about Ross, who hated to be looked down upon because he was Muggle-born? That he worried about Callisto, because she seemed to know he was being eaten alive with so many concerns?

When he finally refocused, Mistress Helga was staring at him, as though she had read every thought his mind. Maybe she had, which was just as frightening as everything else. After a long, unnerving pause, she whispered, "If you are not careful, whatever is the ultimate cause of your distraction will destroy you alive, Ignotus."

He recalled, when his brothers had returned to the castle from the Clan Wars back in autumn, that Mistress Rowena had remarked that a mysterious "beast" was consuming Antioch. He suddenly found it difficult to breath; his chest felt constricted and tight. Heaven help him! Was he allowing something similar to destroy him, too? He had sometimes wondered, vaguely, if he was going mad, but now was the first time he actually thought that perhaps he _was_ mad.

"What should I do?" he whispered, the panic rising through him so fast that it was nearly dizzying.

Mistress Helga still seemed slightly shocked at what she had seen behind his eyes, but she said sadly, "You _must_ refocus, dear. Remind yourself what it is you _really want_. Allow that one thought alone to rise above the other thoughts that are trying to destroy it." She paused, and then added, "And you may wish to speak to Godric. Talking of your concerns is always beneficial, and alerts someone else to the fact that you may need their help. No one can shoulder the world alone, for it weighs far more then a single person can carry. If you try to do so, you will fail."

He nodded, feeling pale and clammy.

"For now, though," she said, taking him by the arm and guiding him towards the stairs, "I think you need a decent meal – I've noticed you've been skipping a few, thanks to your distractions. And perhaps the round table discussion will do you good tonight, as well."

"It is not about Death, is it?" he asked, nauseated at the very idea.

"Oh no, of course not. If you promise not to breathe a word to your fellow mates, I shall tell you, to ease your mind." She smiled. "Tonight's discussion is to be about Love."

"Love?"

"Yes. Love," Mistress Helga repeated, as they turned a corner and headed for another staircase. "There are many magical entities that move the universe, you know. Death is not the only one, despite Salazar's thoughts from the previous discussion. I hope you will join in this evening?"

Ignotus remained quiet as he considered. If nothing else, it would be a more pleasant round table discussion than the previous. He thought of Callisto, and his heart felt slightly lighter; perhaps such a discussion was just what he needed.

She smiled at him as they came to the top of the marble stairs. "Let me know if there is anything I can do to help," she said sincerely, before proceeding down to the entrance hall and leaving him to his thoughts.

oOo

Callisto and Ross had saved him a space at the table of Master Godric's students, and he gratefully sank onto the bench between them and reached for a succulent-looking duck breast on a platter of meat.

"Well?" Ross finally asked, a trifle sarcastically.

"Well, what?" Ignotus responded, trying to sound nonchalant. "Mistress Helga didn't make me do the detention after all. We just...talked, instead."

"Talked? About what?"

He hesitated. "Things."

"You're wearing yourself out." Ross sounded angry. "That idiotic cloak of invisibility has become an obsession with you. You were never supposed to put this much time or effort into your project, Ignotus. It was only supposed to be an extra study."

Callisto interrupted before Ignotus could retort. "Ross is right," she said quietly, but more firmly then she had ever spoken to him before. "I know it is important to you, but if you allow it to consume you, then it will be worthless in the end. And you paid far too much gold for it, to allow it to become worthless."

He sighed, slightly shameful. "Yes, I know. As I said, Mistress Helga and I discussed quite a bit on the way down to dinner. One of our topics of conversation was about consumption. And so I will try to refocus. I promise. I am sorry for worrying both of you. I did not realize I was so distracted."

"You have definitely been distracted. And it is quite dangerous," Ross snapped, before Callisto could respond, "to become so obsessed with anything, for you forget everything else. You forget to come to meals, you have fallen asleep in class, and you ignore your friends, you –"

"I will try to do better from henceforth. Believe me. Please," he implored.

Callisto and Ross glanced at each other, but said nothing further on the subject, and returned to their meals.

After a long moment, Callisto finally murmured, "In any case, you cannot do anything additional on the cloak tonight. The round table discussion will likely take a bit of time, and you desperately need to sleep afterwards."

"I will do so," he promised.

She smiled at this, and he couldn't help but feel an odd twinge in the pit of his stomach, a flutter, as though he had forgotten to breathe for a moment. He hadn't felt it in at least a week; so busy he had been with the cloak.

As soon as the meal was finished, the students arose and Godric and Salazar swept the tables and benches into their customary u-shape for the discussion. Everyone took their seats again, Ignotus between Callisto and Ross. Directly across from him sat Antioch, looking bored as usual, while Cadmus and Cearo sat together between Mistress Ravenclaw and Mistress Helga's two tables.

Godric stepped forward and said briskly, "As you all know, tonight's topic has been selected by Mistress Helga. As such, I shall relinquish the floor to her, and she shall announce our discussion for the evening. As always, we expect complete participation and a depth of thought to your ideas." Gesturing graciously, he stepped back and allowed Mistress Helga to come forward.

Smiling, Mistress Helga announced, "During our last discussion, Master Salazar led us on an interesting journey to unravel and debate the mysteries of Death. Tonight, we will discuss just as potent a power, one that equally moves the universe, and one that is as equally mysterious. We will be discussing...Love."

A few students shifted – some glanced at the person they were interested in and blushed or winked or smirked; some looked at the table or their hands or the floor. A number of Salazar's students rolled their eyes and several of Rowena's looked bored. Ignotus felt Callisto squeeze his hand slightly beneath the table, and when he glanced at Cadmus, he discovered that his middle brother was frowning slightly, though not out of anger. Antioch, meanwhile, had pulled out a roll of parchment and appeared as though he had plans to devote his time to other pursuits; next to him, Serpentina's eyes glared at him furiously.

"So," Mistress Helga began. "What is Love?"

After a long, awkward moment of silence, Mercia Fawcett of Ravenclaw said, in a monotone voice, "_Love_ is to hold an affection or attraction for a person, object, place, or idea."

Mistress Ravenclaw frowned severely. "A perfect definition, Miss Fawcett. You must do better then _that_ to earn marks, however." Her tone was one of slight admonishment.

Mercia flushed at being rebuked. "What other answer is there, Mistress?"

"Many others," her Founder said sharply, and Mercia crossed her arms and fell into a brooding silence as the lady continued, "The art of knowledge is not restricted to text books and parchments and essays. It must tap deeper."

Mistress Helga smiled slightly. "Miss Fawcett, you are indeed correct in your definition – to _love_ is indeed to hold an affection or attraction to someone or something. But it is, as Mistress Rowena says, also much, _much_ deeper. So? Other thoughts?"

"I believe that Love," Dulcina Wynn, one of Helga's students, said, "is one of the most interesting powers of the universe, Mistress. For not only does it fill one with a feeling of elation and happiness, but it can also work in reverse – _not_ to be loved in return, for example, can create feelings of despair and heartache."

"Very true," consented Callisto, so quickly that her very voice startled Ignotus, who turned to stare at her. She went on calmly, "But it goes much deeper then even that. Love is, in itself, a veritable, inexhaustible well of emotion, layered and complicated. For just when you believe you have reached the bottom – that is, despair and hopelessness – the well reveals another level and opens up even more. I believe that Love is more powerful then Death, for in this respect, Death has only one layer, only one dimension. Love continues; Death ends."

Serpentina's haughty voice cut in. "To continue believing in Love so implicitly is foolish, Miss Stewart. There _are_ circumstances in which the well runs dry and one is left with the final layer that is anything _but_ pleasant – the layer of ending. Such is as good as Death, which in turn means that Death is the greater power of the two. Death is the ultimate end."

"False. If one reaches such a level," Callisto responded, a hint of anger hidden in her voice that surprised Ignotus as much as her original speech had, "then one simply has lost the heart to dig deeper. If one continues to _believe_, one will continue to reach new levels in the well. One will find more to Love than simply an ending. Death is only the end if you allow it to be so. Love, however, continues into eternity. We all make our own choices –"

"To hope so constantly is unrealistic." Serpentina's lip curled. "A waste of time."

"Is it?" Mistress Helga interrupted before the argument could continue. "Is Love a waste of time? Let me pose this question to all of you – which do _you_ prefer? Love or Death?"

The students shifted, a few glancing at each other nervously. A few mumbled, "Love", and Mistress Helga arched an eyebrow.

"How intriguing! A mere _handful_ of you prefer Love to Death?"

Cantrella spoke, which was as much of a surprise to Ignotus as anything else had been during the discussion thus far. "In _my_ experience," she said sharply, "the two often follow hand in hand. Many times have I witnessed the power of Love because the power of Death has been active. I myself have acted out of Love _because_ of Death. And," she added, glaring hatefully at the table of Slytherin's students, in particular her cousins, "I would rather continue to believe in Love then bow to Death, for to bow to Death shows weakness."

"How..._admirable_." Cassiopeia Black chuckled. "And _just_ like you, 'Ella! Mother always said you had little Black blood in your veins. You are so much your father's daughter, aren't you?"

"Better to be honorable and admired," Cantrella responded coldly to the insult, "then a _Black_."

At Salazar's table, Cassiopeia, Druella, Moira, and Brogan's chairs scraped the floor and several wands came out, along with a couple of shouts of fury. At Rowena's table, Udela stood up as well, her lips drawn back into a snarl. Cantrella remained coolly seated, arms crossed, while her eyes glittered maliciously at her cousins, daring them to attack her in front of the entire school and the Founders.

"_Enough_!" Godric's voice rang out furiously. "Everyone _sit down_, this instant! How dare you provoke each other in an academic setting! Wands away!"

Salazar looked as furious as Godric. "Obey Master Godric at once," he said icily, when his students did not immediately do as they were told. "_Now_. He is one of your Founders!"

The tension crackled; the members of the House of Black slowly sat down, but they did not take their eyes off of Cantrella.

"We are talking of _Love_," Mistress Helga reminded everyone. She looked highly irritated. "Not Hate. May we please return to our round table discussion?"

Heorot Belby quickly took the discussion in a new direction and said, "I personally must say that I feel Love is too closely related to Lust, Mistress Helga."

"Yes. The two often go hand in hand," answered Odell Gumbold at Helga's table. "Much like Love and Death, I suppose."

"Love is tied with many things," shrugged Ranulf Rosier, another of Ravenclaw's students. "In some ways, it is not an entity by itself, but a parasite entity."

"Love is not a _parasite_," Hesperia countered from Gryffindor's table. She looked utterly revolted at the idea. "What an awful thing to equate it to! _Death_ is the parasite, always on the fringes and spreading in all directions! Love _combats_ it, and perhaps some feel it is a worthless power, but it is far from that! Despite what shapes and forms it may take, the fact that it _is_ able to be so many different things is the very way in which it combats Death and Despair!"

Cadmus spoke up quietly. "But in the end, Death _will_ win. Love is not enough to prevent Death from occurring, no matter how it tries. The only way to prevent Death is by Power."

Ignotus expected Mistress Helga to rebuke Cadmus for changing the topic and attempting to bring up his project once more, but to his further surprise, _Cearo_ was the one who did so.

"_Power_." Her voice was bitter and sad. "Power is a consuming entity that drains you of life! Power is one of Death's minions, Cadmus! Love, separate from Death and Power, is the only possible way to combat the two, as Hesperia said!"

"A fool's belief," Serpentina muttered, under her breath, and Callisto tensed angrily in her seat.

Ignotus shifted uncomfortably, wondering why this round table discussion was so much _worse_ then the last one. He had expected a pleasant, cheerful discussion – not the bickering and hatred that was simmering throughout the students. Most of those who obviously agreed with Love's positive attributes seemed fearful of speaking up, lest Salazar and Rowena's students chastise them mercilessly. From the corner of his eye, Callisto's profile continued to be rigid and taut; next to her, Cantrella looked haughty and daring. The only people in the room with the ability to stand up to the attacks on the subject of Love were Callisto and Cantrella, and Cearo. Even Hesperia had shrunk back into her seat, looking upset. A strange combination of fighters, he thought distantly. A quiet, sweet girl who was his love; a fierce, arrogant girl who had almost been Sorted to Slytherin's fold but had strangely gone to Master Godric instead; a seemingly weak, submissive girl who was emotionally wrought due to her pregnancy and Cadmus's distant attentions. They shouldn't be the only ones to stand and fight. It wasn't fair to them.

"It is foolish?" Ignotus asked, his voice ringing slightly in the room, "To care about someone in such a way as to want to protect them and cherish them?"

Serpentina looked startled by his question – by his daring to speak up at all. Her eyes flickered once to Antioch, who was still writing on his parchment, seemingly not paying any attention to the conversation. She said coldly, "You have never been rejected by one you loved, have you, Ignotus?"

"Yes, I have."

To this, the entire room fell silent. Serpentina looked taken aback, Callisto turned to look at him in surprise, Cadmus looked confused, and Antioch stopped writing.

He plunged on, keeping his voice steady. "But just because someone I care about rejected me, does not mean that I _stopped_ caring about them. It is better, of course, when someone returns your affection. But you can still care about someone, _love_ them, even if they've angered you or rejected you."

"And who, pray tell, rejected you that you would continue to care about them despite being stabbed by an invisible knife?" Serpentina crossed her arms and smiled like a viper, her eyes flickering once to Callisto.

Ignotus smiled sadly as he thought of how Cadmus had treated both him and Antioch prior to Yule. "It isn't important _whom_," he said, evading the question - for Serpentina was clearly thinking of a lover, and not a family member. "It is only important that it happened and I experienced that rejection and the bitterness that followed. And that I continued to care about them, despite that! By allowing hate and discourse to enter your soul, you are essentially allowing Death to overpower Love. Those emotions – hate, discourse, anger, bitterness – they destroy Love. In a word, they bring Death _to_ Love. And there is absolutely no sense in allowing Death to conquer you and eat you from the inside out, because then, you become nothing more then an empty shell. But to continue to Love, to learn to care about someone despite everything else taking place in the world around you... _That_ is to Live. We make our own choices, don't we?"

Serpentina rolled her eyes and declined to argue further – perhaps she was simply too annoyed to continue the fight. Ignotus felt uncomfortable, having had the last word in such a draining discussion, but when he looked up he realized that Godric was watching him closely. Almost _urgently_. He wondered what on earth his Founder was so desperate to convey, and his brow furrowed slightly as he thought.

"That will end our discussion for tonight, I believe," Mistress Helga said suddenly, and Ignotus came out of his reverie. Godric was no longer watching him, and he wondered if he had perhaps imagined his master's expression.

Benches scraped the floor and Ignotus stood up, slightly dazed, still trying to decipher Godric's look. Callisto tugged at his hand and he turned to look at her; to his surprise, her eyes had the same blazing, fierce, desperate look that Godric's had seemed to have only moments before.

"Come," she insisted firmly, and before he could protest, they were swept up in the tide of students leaving for the dormitories.

Moments later, alone on a narrow hall on third floor, Callisto pushed him into a dark corner behind a tapestry and came quite close to him.

"Listen to me," she whispered. "Do you remember what you said downstairs? About Love allowing you to Live? Please, Ignotus. You mustn't _ever_ forget that! Continuing to Love, despite everything else that happens, enables you to Live. That," she insisted, "is the most difficult task in the world. Trust me, for I know. I have had to do it before. But you _can_ succeed at it if you remember it. And... you must especially remember it when you weave the cloak. Do you understand?"

"I... Yes. I suppose so. But why is it so important, all of a sudden? I mean, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe it, but..."

"It just is! It's _incredibly_ important. So many students are working on their projects for other reasons – ambition, pride, praise... You mustn't be like that. You'll see... If you continue to weave the cloak out of Love, then once you complete it, it will be so much better then anything anyone else has done. Because you'll have put _yourself_ into it, and not all of those other emotions that try to overshadow Love. Cadmus and Antioch, they are making the stone and the wand because Death has overpowered them and consumed them – because they want to defeat Death. Death's minions, Power and Hate, have consumed them! Listen to me now, if you never listen to me again," she demanded. "Finish the cloak out of Love, and not for _any other reason_, Ignotus."

Ignotus wondered what on earth had made her so insistent, so desperate to have him understand her. "Very well. I will," he said, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to him. He felt her sigh of relief, and he then felt the familiar gnawing in his stomach as he remembered the idea Cadmus had had about hallows. As soon as he thought it, he felt Callisto's body stiffen, and he resolutely pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

"I promise," he added firmly.

She relaxed slightly, and he couldn't help but wonder if she had read his mind.

Nor could he wonder how he would manage to forget the glorious idea of hallows in order to weave the idea of Love into the cloak.


	11. Chapter 11 - Terminus

**The Last Enemy**

**Chapter Eleven - Terminus**

* * *

Cearo shifted slightly in her seat, feeling rather uncomfortable and unmotivated. Worse, she was unable to do anything about either, for it had been her idea in the first place that she and Cadmus should spend the afternoon in the library, studying.

And that had indeed been her original plan. She had mountains of essays to write and texts to read, and she needed to work on her challenge as well. But somehow, being with child made everything pile up even more then usual, she thought dejectedly.

And, unlike _her_, Cadmus somehow managed to stay caught up with all of his regular lessons despite the fact that he would be a father within a few months. He didn't have to carry the baby, or feel it kick and twist within his belly. It didn't make him uncomfortable or hot or cold or frustrated or angry or sad or moody. He had time to think about everything else – all of the things she _would_ have been thinking of, were she not with child.

For instance, during the past hour of their time together today, he had been writing a series of complex equations on a piece of parchment, crossing numbers and symbols out occasionally and reworking the theory each time – because he had completed his weekly essays already. Cearo, who was behind in Herbology more than any other study, couldn't seem to focus on her essay at all, simply because she was constantly distracted by Cadmus's obvious diligence. He had always been brilliant, but the advanced level of the work he was currently doing was beyond anything she had ever seen – even if it was for his challenge, which she disagreed with entirely. She tried to refocus on her own work, and managed to write out another line regarding the best way to obtain Poisonous Hornbush berries without causing injury to oneself.

But when Cadmus randomly muttered, "_No, to reverse that aspect properly, the principle of Elwyn's Sixteenth Law must be put into effect in conjunction with the number of months or years that have already past…_" she couldn't help but look up in horror. Elwyn the Fierce was a scholar from at least five or six centuries past; his history was clouded in mystery and his adult life had been one of utterly disturbing qualities. He was considered a genius, but as his theories and deductions were so horribly dangerous that the majority of the wizarding community had banned their study. In fact, it was rare to hear his name at all these days – she only knew of him because, in her third year at the Founders' school, Mistress Helga had made a warning comment about the man's foolish writings and their removal from the Hogwarts library two years prior, mainly on the insistence of several wizarding parents whose children had located the documents and tried one of the theories, with disastrous results.

"Surely you are not studying Elwyn the Fierce?" she whispered, without thinking about her words.

Cadmus glanced at her, eyebrows slightly lifted. "Yes, I confess I am. His writings contain knowledge I need in order to complete the stone's ultimate power."

She gaped at him, unable to comprehend. That the man she loved would stoop to study a banned, twisted scholar was beyond her. She had thought that Cadmus was slowly becoming his old self again, but clearly _not_. Not if he were studying Elwyn. She stammered, "You would stoop to accepting Elwyn's methods for something like this? Cadmus, you mustn't! His theories were too dangerous! Surely there are other theories or ideas you can use!"

"None that investigate reversing spells the way Elwyn did. His writings are quite fascinating, actually."

Cearo felt herself growing pale and, for some reason, the baby kicked at that precise moment. She winced and instinctively put a hand on her stomach.

However, before she could ask where Cadmus had located Elwyn's writings, he had dropped his quill. "Are you well?" he asked, leaning towards her, his hand coming up to touch her cheek.

She started to nod, but when then her eye caught his scribbles again and she scowled instead. "No, I am not!" she argued quietly, leaning away from his touch. "Cadmus, please! For the sake of our child, I beg you will stop reading Elwyn's theories! And stop putting so many dangerous spells into that stone! If you're going to make it – and you are," she added bitterly, "you should at least focus on something positive instead of something so negative! Otherwise, the stone will be worthless!"

"Something positive?" He sounded annoyed. "Such as?"

Cearo felt her ire rising. "You are consumed by the thought of Death! I know you miss your father, but that's _just it_! Did you not even listen to the discussion two nights ago? Your brother defended Love! You should take his words to heart and finish this stone in such a way as to make it an _asset_ instead of a _liability_! Your father would not want you this determined to defeat a universal entity that cannot be defeated!"

Cadmus had already returned to his notes, as though determined to block her words. "Ignotus is young, and does not understand the ways of the world yet," he responded.

"Do not chastise him thus! Ignotus is sixteen, and more intelligent then you give him credit for! He is a man, regardless of whether he has fought in the Clan Wars or not!"

"I am aware of Ignotus's age and intelligence, but he has still not lived in the world, yet. His project is, by far, more difficult then anyone realizes – maybe more difficult than _he_ realizes – but the purpose of the stone is to bring back the dead, and I fail to see how Love would be a deciding factor in the equations for reversing Death."

"It should be _the_ deciding factor," Cearo insisted. "You should wish to see those who have passed because you loved them, not because you want to cheat Death of another victim! The distinction means everything! Trying to cheat Death will destroy you!"

"The distinction will empower me, not destroy me."

The baby kicked again, and Cearo bit back a cry. Cadmus didn't even look up, this time. Suddenly feeling sick and tired, she rose unsteadily and gathered her parchment, not bothering to put it in any kind of order.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, hardly looking at her.

"Yes. I'm going back to the dormitories," she answered shortly.

"Simply because I don't believe your idea is the best one?"

"I'm tired, Cadmus! The baby is unsettled and my back hurts! I shall see you tomorrow. Good night."

And before he could inquire further, Cearo stormed down the aisle and through the library, unable to ignore the tears pricking her lashes. She would have to find time to finish the Herbology essay later, as well as work on her own project: she was studying the effects of Ashwinder eggs in potion making, and if reworking a couple of potions that did not involve the dangerous things would make them stronger if she did add them.

But somehow, she just couldn't put her heart into it to work on either any more tonight.

oOo

Ignotus had been staring at the partially completed cloak for half an hour, but nothing had changed. The threads in the loom were still the same; the third that was finished still shimmered softly in the dim light.

His shoulders drooped. He had no idea how to weave _Love_ into the cloak. If Callisto's suggestion was accurate, _Love_ would be the universal key to rendering him utterly invisible – the hidden, powerful magic that Godric had mysteriously hinted at when he first decided to weave the cloak the previous term. But no brilliant idea had come to him yet; no stroke of genius presented itself. _Love_ was a feeling, not a spell or charm or curse or hex. It wasn't something he could say to the threads and the fabric, and by such, they would absorb _Love_ the way they would absorb spells.

Frustrated, dejected, and drained, he rose from the bench before the loom and wandered to the door of the room. Until he was able to overcome this obstacle, there was no use in weaving further. He could complete the cloak, but unless he wove _Love_, he would fail.

He closed the door behind him, slightly grateful that he was no longer staring at the shining, glimmering Demiguise threads. With a sigh, he waved his wand in a few complicated movements, sealing the door carefully, so that none could enter except Callisto or Master Godric. And, having done this, he began to trudge through the corridors, wondering if the library had any texts on the unknown magic of love. He rather doubted it, but it was worth a try. He had to start somewhere, and seeing as it was the end of the week and there were no classes today, he would have quite a bit of time to search for information on the illusive subject.

However, just as he reached the third floor, he saw Ansen sprinting up the corridor towards him, ashen and terrified.

"_Ignotus_!"

The younger boy skidded to a halt and Ignotus grabbed his arms before Ansen crashed into him. The panic in the youngster's face made him feel cold and unsettled, for something had clearly happened, and it didn't appear to be something good.

Panting, Ansen gasped, "Some of Salazar's students…! They… they…"

"They _what_?" Ignotus demanded sharply. There was absolutely no bloody telling what some of Salazar's students had or hadn't done; it could be anything, and they weren't on the best of terms with more than a few students beneath any of the other three Founders.

"You've got to come right away!" Ansen looked on the verge of tears. "They… A Graphorn escaped the forest somehow, and some of Salazar's students _challenged Ross_! Said a Muggle-born was weaker then a Pureblood and told him they bet he couldn't destroy it alone! The Founders are in a meeting and no one knows where they are, and…!"

Ignotus felt his heart stop for a fleeting second. Graphorns were incredibly dangerous creatures with hides tougher then Dragons', and nearly impossible to kill for it. They rarely came so close to the school; this one must have been hungrier then usual to venture up out of the forest. He remembered what Antioch had told him the day they had fed the Thestrals – the winter was more bitter than usual, and such animals were likely to venture out of the forest. But for Ross to accept such an utterly ridiculous challenge…!

Practically pushing Ansen aside, he began to sprint down the corridor, his mind racing faster then his feet. He had to get outside, to the lawns… He wasn't certain what he could do, but he had to do _something_…

The younger boy caught up with him, holding a stitch in his side. "Gaderian and Perseus tried to stop him," he cried, "but he wouldn't listen! He said Master Godric wouldn't have selected him if he weren't courageous and strong, and he's had it with the House of Black's barbs about Muggle-borns and how he's not as good as they are! Gaderian and Perseus went to find the Founders, if they can! You've got to stop him, Ignotus! You're the only one he'll listen to when he gets stubborn like this! If the Graphorn doesn't kill him, the Blacks will!"

Ignotus kept running, perfectly aware that no one could get through to Ross when he was in one of his stubborn moods. He had always been sensitive about his parentage, and more then once in the past five years had nearly come to blows with various students of Salazar Slytherin. Ignotus had always known that it would happen sooner or later; that it was only a matter of time before the straw broke the ox's back and Ross lost his temper enough to start a duel or do something stupid. Up 'til now, someone had always stepped in before Ross could get involved in a fight – usually one of the Founders, but if they were no where to be found…

A sudden thought occurred to him. Callisto had mentioned, right after Yule, how much Cantrella hated her cousins. Perhaps she would be able to step in. As he reached the marble stairs, he shouted, "Ansen! Find Callisto and Cantrella! Tell them what has happened!"

Ansen's shoulders dropped, for he was clearly exhausted from running so much, but he nodded weakly and turned to race back to the tower as Ignotus took the marble stairs two at a time. A few of Rowena and Helga's students were in the entrance hall, and they frowned at his pace, but he merely ignored them, burst through the oak doors, and began pelting down the long lawn towards the forest, his heart sinking as the sight came into view before him.

Ross was marching across the dead grass, seemingly _eons_ away, his shoulders squared and his head high, his wand clenched in his hand. The Graphorn, clearly agitated and furious, was pawing the ground with his head down. Any second, he would run for his target, and Merlin only knew if Ross would be able to dodge the attack. The members of the House of Black that Ansen had mentioned were standing well away from the scene, upon an outcrop of rock, laughing and jeering horribly and egging Ross on. Ignotus wondered why on earth his best mate had allowed them to get under his skin so badly that he would do something _this stupid_ to prove them wrong, but a sharp voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he, too, would have probably done something like this only five months ago himself, in order to prove a point. Hadn't he been determined back then to prove that he was as strong as his brothers? That he should have been allowed to fight in the Clan Wars? Wouldn't he have done _anything_ then in order to show his strength?

Suddenly his legs couldn't seem to carry him fast enough. A searing pain clenched in his chest from the effort of sprinting so far already, and he watched as Ross stopped and the Graphorn charged forward.

And then, in a wink of an eye, his world froze as he watched Ross fire a spell that rebounded off of the Graphorn's hide. His friend tried to fling himself out of the way at the last second, out of the aim of those long, deadly horns.

It was happening in slow motion. Ross was caught in midair, his body thrown high as the Graphorn tossed his head. An arch of blood stained the dead grass, and Salazar's students howled and cried out with unsuppressed, ruthless mirth.

Ignotus's mind went blank. He couldn't think or feel anything except an awful numbness that had paralyzed him. Had it really happened? It _couldn't_ be real. But his frozen state at what he had just seen only lasted a fraction of a second, because the sounds of the Blacks' laughter jolted him back to the horrible reality of what was unfolding before him. Anger rose within him like a snake and he shouted out, "_Stupefy_!" before he quite thought about it. The jet of red light collided with the Graphorn, which turned and slung Ross aside, off of one of it's horns, to find its new attacker.

Its eyes lit upon Ignotus, and he felt something sink inside of him. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he registered the Slytherin students' laughter growing louder as they realized his presence. He heard someone shout out that they would bet a Pureblood son of the House of Peverell could do better then a filthy, unworthy Mudblood that had deserved a slow death, and the Graphorn snorted in defiance. From the corner of his eye, Ignotus saw Ross stir feebly on the ground, gasping and grasping his side. The crimson of the blood was invisible against his red robes but bright against the icy ground and bright against his pale hand, and Ignotus knew he would need to defeat the beast quickly to help his friend.

oOo

"You need me there! Nothing you say will stop me!" Cantrella yelled.

"He _told_ you not to!" Callisto shouted back, ignoring the way green and gold sparks flew from the end of Cantrella's wand in anger. She could duel Cantrella if she had to; that was the least of her worries. Furious, she yelled, "Get back to the tower, 'Ella!"

But before Callisto could cast a Shield Charm between them and escape through the oaken front doors, her best friend darted in front of her in a whirl of red robes and black tresses.

Effectively blocking the way, Cantrella said in a low, frosty voice, "I _know_ my cousins, Callisto! I know how they think, I know how their hateful, twisted, evil minds work. You do too, for you can see their thoughts, but there are more of them than of us today, and until someone finds Godric…!"

Callisto felt her temper slipping away from her, felt her real emotions too dangerously close to the surface. Real emotions that perhaps only Cantrella had ever truly seen, for she hid them even from her uncle as best she could. Cantrella was the only person who could understand, being a girl herself. "If you fight," Callisto hissed back, clenching her wand in one hand and grabbing Cantrella's robes with her other, to bring them face to face (for Cantrella was slightly taller than Callisto was), "we will have all-out war, Cantrella! He doesn't want that yet! No one knows Salazar's thoughts are at the moment, and –!"

"Merlin's _arse_! Stop hiding behind that old argument – everyone _knows_ that Salazar hates the Muggle-borns! War is coming whether I fight today or not!" Cantrella reminded her hotly. "And if we delay any longer, Ross and Ignotus will _both_ die! Salazar's students will see to it! I would wager my entire fortune that Salazar even put them up to it." Her voice dropped to a low whisper, despite the fact that there was no one else in the Entrance Hall at that moment to overhear the argument. "And so would your uncle. It will take both of us, Cal, to destroy that Graphorn. They cannot be defeated by a single witch or wizard."

oOo

Ignotus could feel his breath coming in painful gasps. He knew he could not continue to avoid the Graphorn for much longer – it was too powerful and too fast. His spells and charms were doing little in the way of protecting him; rather, they were only annoying the beast further. It had turned into a sick game, for the Graphorn seemed intent on drawing the battle out and killing Ignotus as slowly as possible.

Behind him, he could hear Maponus Avery, Lycoris Malfoy, Brogan Lestrange, and the members of the House of Black – Cassiopeia, Druella, Moira, Orion, and Borealis – sneering and laughing worse then ever. Waiting for him to die. It was sport to them, to watch those they wished to eliminate die in such a fashion. They hadn't lifted a finger, and never would have to. And they were well far back enough from the fight to risk getting involved themselves, so they could always plead innocent when faced with punishment.

As the Graphorn rushed for him again, Ignotus wondered if it were worth dodging. He wondered where Ansen was, if he'd managed to find Callisto and Cantrella or Master Godric. The instinct to survive made him throw himself aside at the last second, but his energy was so drained that it wasn't quite fast enough. He felt a searing hot pain in his side, heard the rip of fabric, felt the cold air bite his skin, felt the warm gush of blood as he rolled to the ground and tried to stagger to his feet. When his hand gripped his side, it came away covered in sticky red, and the Graphorn skidded to a halt thirty feet away, its nostrils flaring as it picked up the coppery scent.

He wouldn't be able to dodge again, and he doubted that any spell he hadn't yet tried would do any better then anything he _had_ tried thus far. He suddenly felt as though he were the worst in his class at Defense. All of his training was nothing in this battle. If he was unable to protect himself now, he wouldn't have been able to protect himself in the Clan Wars in the least. His vision swam and the Graphorn pawed the ground and slung his head, his stained horns flashing. Ignotus wondered, briefly, what Antioch and Cadmus would do when they discovered what had taken place today. Would his brothers avenge his death? He didn't even think that the House of Black could stand against Antioch Peverell, if he were furious enough. Or Cadmus.

Ignotus lifted his wand, his arm unsteady and shaking terribly as he felt an unpleasant warmth seeping down his side to his hip and thigh. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Ross's body on the ground, now completely still, lying in a large pool of red. Tears pricked his vision, blurring it worse then the physical pain. He couldn't believe Ross was _actually dead_ – only that morning they'd eaten breakfast together before Ignotus had gone to the locked chamber to work on the cloak. The night before they had joked by the fire about playing Shuntbumps when the weather turned warmer. Perhaps there was still a chance that Mistress Helga could save him. Or perhaps he would be with his best friend again soon enough, he thought dimly, and his arm slipped a bit as his knees gave out. He could apologize then; beg forgiveness for not spending more time with Ross these past two months, while he worked on a stupid challenge instead. What was the cloak worth, really, compared to his closest friend's life?

The Graphorn began to run, seemingly in slow motion. Ignotus felt his temple touch the cold grass as he gave out, and he hoped that perhaps he would lose consciousness before the beast killed him. Even the shouts of laughter were growing faint.

Then suddenly, two flashes of light went over his head – one red, one gold, racing together and interlocking as they went. He heard a howl of pain from the Graphorn and felt the ground vibrate beneath his body as it was thrown to the earth. Dimly, he realized more then one person would have had to cast a spell to tackle the beast to the ground. He heard a distant shout of fury and felt another vibration, as though a powerful spell had gone off nearby, and he heard several screams of anger. Amidst the shouting and additional spells, a face swam above his, but he couldn't quite make it out. He saw several more flashes of light, but he was unable to discern where they were going or coming from. And from far, far away, he heard someone begging him to hold on.

oOo

Callisto's hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly hold her wand. There was blood _everywhere_, all over him, the ground, _everything_. It was already on her dress and cloak and her hands, streaked on her face where she'd made the mistake of trying to push an errant curl out of her eyes to focus on him. It wasn't that she hadn't seen blood before, but _this_… This was _horrifying_. It took her eerily back to the day she watched her parents' deaths. She had no idea what to do, or how to stop the flow from his side. The wound was bad and he had lost enough in the seconds before she had reached him…

Then, unexpectedly, she felt a rough hand grab her shoulder and a moment later her uncle had knelt beside her, his face a contorted mixture of fury and panic and resolution. It was much paler then she'd ever seen it, completely drained and ashen. Then she realized she must _look_ like the six-year-old child that watched her parents' deaths from behind her mother's enchanted loom, rather than simply _feeling_ like that child, for she saw his teeth grit and his cheeks suffuse with sudden red.

"You must save him," he said, his voice quite and low and urgent. "Callisto, you've got to _try_ –!"

When she just stared back at him, mute and confused, he actually _shook_ her – the first time he had ever done so in her entire life.

"_Callisto_!" he snarled. "You've been studying healing spells for months now! You _can_ heal him; I know you can! You must concentrate! _Do it_!"

He was more desperate then she, because for once, she knew more then he did. Perhaps it was Godric Gryffindor's desperation that brought her back to her senses. The thought that her uncle was so terrified and couldn't do anything himself that snapped her mind into action. Her eyes slid back to Ignotus's body, sprawled on the ground. She took a shaky breath and held her wand out over the wound. Her numb lips trembling, she closed her eyes to the awful sight and began to mumble the incantations she had studied for her project – studied for _this_ purpose, so that when the inevitable war of Muggle-borns finally broke out officially between the legions of her uncle and Salazar Slytherin, she would have the knowledge to heal magical wounds so severe that Death would be a blessing for those who suffered. Knowledge to heal brave warriors that would be needed to return to the field of battle to protect the innocent. The reason she had selected the art of healing for her project was, in truth, to fight the war that had started so long ago – the war she had been dragged viciously into when she was a child of six summers. There were many who excelled at Defense. There were few who excelled at Healing. And magical cloaks would only do so much to protect their wearers. She had needed to learn this art.

As she cast her spells, she her Godric snap from behind her, "_No_, Helga! She can do it! You must let her!"

A low groan escaped Ignotus's lips and she dared to open her eyes. The wound, still covered in blood, was slowly knitting back together. The spells were powerful, but though she had only learned them in theory, she had been able to put them into practice in this crucial moment. Shaking, she lifted her eyes to Cantrella, who was now standing opposite of her, on the other side of Ignotus's body. Her best friend's face was colorless, framed by long, wavy, rippling black hair. Her robes had been torn in several places and she sported one long cut along her cheek that marred the perfect whiteness with a faint red line – the only visible evidence she bore as the result of her battle with her cousins. She had taken on three of them at once, eagerly even, and two of them were lying prone on the ground nearby. The third was nursing a fractured arm and spiting out a furious tirade to Master Salazar, who was standing twenty feet away and looking positively livid. Gaderian and Perseus had arrived with the two Founders and, in fury, had tried to assist Cantrella against Salazar's commands. They were now standing together, almost guiltily, waiting punishment for fighting.

Cantrella's eyes flickered once towards the forest, and Callisto glanced that way as well. Ross's body was lying nearby, and for a second, Callisto felt nauseated. She felt her uncle touch her shoulder again.

"There is nothing you can do for him," he whispered in a choked voice. "But you have done well by Ignotus, Callisto."

"The healing spells you selected," Mistress Rowena added quietly, as she helped Callisto to shaky feet, "Were well studied. I hardly believe you will need to complete your demonstration at the end of the term, Miss Stewart. Would you now heal Miss Dreux, please?"

As Godric levitated Ignotus's body, Callisto lifted her arm again. It felt like lead, but before she could cast the spell, Cantrella quickly but gently grasped the end of Callisto's wand.

"No. I will bear it as a reminder. Do not heal it. I do not wish it."

Callisto was too numb to argue; it was as though the words were coming to her through a tunnel. Slowly, she nodded, and Cantrella released the end of the wand.

"Callisto!" Her uncle's voice broke her thoughts. "You'll be needed in the hospital wing if Cantrella does not require your services. Rowena would like your assistance. Cantrella – you will come with me."

Callisto nodded again so he would know that she had heard him, but did not immediately follow. She watched as Salazar sent his students back to the castle: the ones sporting wounds to the hospital wing, and the ones sporting injured prides back to their common room. Salazar hissed at Gaderian and Perseus to return to their tower and await Godric's presence, for Salazar would certainly expel them if they were his students, but Godric would decide their punishments for their idiotic fighting.

Anger boiled in Callisto's veins, for he was not expelling his own students, of course. She knew Godric would not expel his, either. But the thought that Salazar would, and without second thought, only made her angrier. The man was so bias that she wished she were strong enough to kill him herself, sometimes.

She turned to Cantrella to express her outrage, but found her friend had wandered over to where Ross's cold body lay twisted on the ground, despite Godric's order that Cantrella follow him. And immediately, Callisto's outrage faded into sadness and pain. For Cantrella, who was always so strong and never showed her weaknesses, buried her face in her hands and wept silently, now that there was no one left on these parts of the lawns to see.

She knew that Cantrella had never told anyone how she felt, for Cantrella would be disowned once and for all when she finally did. She had been waiting, Callisto knew, until they finished school, even stopping Ross from expressing his own feelings the one time he had tried to tell her secretly how _he_ felt, asking him to wait until Hogwarts was behind them. To Callisto's knowledge, this was the one secret Ross had kept from Ignotus, and she only knew it because Cantrella had confided in only her and Godric. She knew that Cantrella and Ross had decided to wait, for once they left Hogwarts they would have a fraction of a chance, if even that much. A pureblood member of the House of Black and a Muggle-born that was outcaste by wizarding society would be shunned everywhere they went, but they would have each other, if nothing else.

Now, it was too late.

Callisto felt a couple of tears slide down her own face, for there was nothing she could do to help her friend, and that hurt almost as much as the idea of losing Ignotus did.


End file.
